Cryptocracy
by Heaven Born Captain
Summary: NCIS/Bones XO. The finding of a body in a peculiar place leads both teams into a dangerous game where the truth is ambiguous and secrets keep you alive. So what secret is Tony keeping from everybody? TIVA, BB, JIBBS. Multiple global locations.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: NCIS/Bones crossover. The finding of a body in a peculiar place leads both teams into a dangerous game with an ending that nobody saw coming. Multiple pairings; multiple global locations. JIBBS; TIVA; B/B with some H/A and McAbby.

Author's Note: For those who are reading my other series based off the story, Secrets Revealed, this is a totally unrelated story and not part of that series. It is set in an unspecified time during Seasons 3-5 of NCIS and 2-3 of Bones. The third story of that series will not be posted just yet but it is in progress. Be aware that updates on this story may be progressively slower than normal, but I wanted to post something during my hiatus.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, locations or plots from NCIS or Bones. I have the utmost respect for the writers, producers and directors of both and do not intend to infringe copyright laws. I am not making any profit from this story and am writing it for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_University of Ingolstadt, Bavaria, 1776_

Fear and panic gripped his entire system as he stumbled through the black, hands brushing the walls on either side of the narrow passageway and little light flickering from the candle in his left hand. His phobia of the dark was not as potent as the fear that he was being followed. He couldn't hear footsteps behind him, but he could feel them. As the terror became stronger, he picked his pace up to a run and tripped over a loose brick on his left side. The heavy book that was weighing him down dropped as he fell forward and slammed into dirt beneath him.

Dazed and sore, he lay there for far too long. The dark and mystic underground of the university was swirling in front of him as he slowly got to his feet and jumped. He could hear someone approaching quickly, the footsteps thundering down the hall like a stampede. He hoped that it was only one person. Grabbing the book, the cause of all his worries, he lurched forward and ran until he reached a dead end at the end of the tunnel. He gripped the book close to his chest as he muttered a quick prayer and then dropped to his knees to loosen and remove a few bricks at the base of the wall. It was taking too long but as soon as he removed enough to fit the book through, he pushed it inside and closed up the wall.

Closing his eyes, he stood up again, knowing that his tracker was close behind. And he was.

A hiss came from behind the tired, dirty and sore man, who was still facing the wall. _"I am stronger than you." _

The man didn't even have the chance to respond as a sword flicked out of nowhere and plunged through his back, lodging itself in his side. As the blood seeped down his chest, he prayed ardently to his God that his master's secret would remain safe until the time came. Closing his eyes, his knees buckled and he plunged into darkness.

* * *

_US Naval Academy, Present Day_

Bells rang out from the chapel, shouting over the loud group of Firsties conversing as they walked towards the chapel's exit. Laughing and joking, the young Midshipmen enjoying the warm weather as the time of their commissioning approached.

"I'm not happy that some Plebe is gonna take over my position on the rowing team," one of the young men ejected.

"Why do you care?" his friend fired back.

"Yeah, it's not like you'll be in a position to compete on the Reagan," another ejected.

"But a Plebe," the rower complained, before stopping his rant. Curious, his friends followed his eye to a loose pane of wood in the hallway's wall. The rower took a step towards it and yanked, ignoring the others' pleas for him to leave it alone.

The first thing they registered was the intense stench that had been dispersed throughout the narrow corridor. All four men took a leap back, coughing in disgust and covering their mouths and noses. But as the rower took a step back towards the empty pane, the next big shock came to all of them as the skeletal form of a left forearm draped out of the opening.

---

Phones were ringing off the hook and employees were arriving by the busload from the elevator as seven a.m. approached, and the mailman was dropping envelopes and packages off at each agent's desk in the NCIS squad room at the Washington Navy Yard. Mossad Officer Ziva David had not yet arrived; neither had the Major Case Response Team's leader, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, so the bullpen was comprised of Anthony DiNozzo, blowing up a long, red balloon at his desk, and Timothy McGee, who was typing a report up on his computer and trying to ignore his colleague.

This plan did not last long. As soon as the balloon reached full capacity, Tony released it in McGee's direction and it blasted across the room, landing on the younger agent's head. McGee didn't bother make any comment, he just flicked it off his head and threw it in the bin.

"Something the matter, Probie?" Tony questioned with a boyish smile.

McGee continued to ignore him and the mailman walked into a silent bullpen. Most of the mail in his basket was letters or documents, but there was one rather large package wrapped in brown paper. The man dropped it on Tony's desk and continued to whistle through the squad room, dropping a few more letters on Gibbs' desk before walking away.

The younger agent found his eyes wandering from his screen towards Tony's desk as he watched the older man flip the package over and read the return details. He was intrigued as he watched Tony's face change from excitement to despair. Rather than open it, Tony threw it under his desk and pulled out the top file on his pile of paperwork.

"Aren't you going to open that?" McGee asked suspiciously.

"Don't you have paperwork?" Tony shot back, flicking through the file he had open on his desk.

"Who was it from?" McGee dared to ask. He didn't expect an answer, but he did expect a response.

"An old friend," Tony replied quickly, not looking up from his work. The speed of his answer told McGee to cease the interrogation, but he did not.

"Theta nu Epsilon?" McGee asked jokingly, a smile staring at Tony.

"Alpha Chi Delta," Tony rebutted angrily, missing the joke and going on the defensive. "And no."

"No, I know that Tony, I was just-" McGee stopped mid-sentence, picking up on a different train of thought. Just who was this parcel from, he wondered, and then voiced the concern.

"It is none of your concern, McBusybody," Tony shot back at him.

"What's none of his concern?" Ziva asked, walking into the bullpen.

"Nothing," Tony answered, his tone showing the depth of his foul mood. "Where were you this morning?"

"Embassy," Ziva answered as she took a seat at her desk.

"Any idea where the Bossman is?" Tony piped up before McGee or Ziva could question him again.

"Right here, DiNozzo." Gibbs was walking down the stairs and into the bullpen, NCIS Director Jennifer Shepard in tow. "Gear up. Body in dress whites found at the Naval Academy in Maryland." He not-so-subtly turned back to the woman following him. Lowering his voice, he hissed at her. "To be continued, Jen."

Jenny tried hard to ignore the glare she was getting from Gibbs, followed by the confused looks of his loyal team. She ignored them, picked up her pride and walked back towards MTAC as Gibbs and his team walked in the other direction and got into the elevator. She and Gibbs had gone their separate ways before, both figuratively and literally, but she desperately hoped that the events of the night before would not affect the working relationship that she tried so hard to build over the past few years.

---

The NCIS team was greeted at the Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland by a large crowd of people gathering outside the campus' main chapel. The local police had quartered off the area around it and the group of people— midshipmen, officers and civilians— alike were trying hard to get a good look at the crime scene.

"Coming through," Tony shouted over the top of them. "NCIS! Coming through!"

The team reached the front of the crowd and ducked underneath the tape, walking towards the chapel. A tall, African-American police officer approached them in greeting and led them towards the entrance.

"Officer Jake Wilson," he told them. "The body's through here. A group of Firsties found it when they pulled out a loose panel in the wall. I've got them over there." He pointed to a group of uniformed young men waiting near the steps with a few other police officers.

"Right," Gibbs replied. They walked in relative silence to where the body was and then he turned to his team. "DiNozzo, photos and sketch; McGee, bag and tag; David, with me."

Without asking where they were going, Ziva followed Gibbs back outside and then realised that they were interviewing the group of Firsties. As they exited the chapel, their Medical Examiner, Dr Donald Mallard, or Ducky as they called him, pulled up in his van with his faithful sidekick and assistant, Jimmy Palmer, driving.

"Sorry we're late, Jethro," Ducky called out to him. "But it would seem that the commissioning of officers has already started and we couldn't get in through all the traffic."

"That would explain the large crowd," Ziva commented as she looked around at them.

"Body's in there, Duck," Gibbs pointed out as the Scottish gentleman ducked under the crime scene tape.

"Good," he heard a voice remark. "Because we wanted to know that too."

Gibbs turned around to see a suited man flash a badge at the police officer and then duck under the tape followed by two women. Ziva and Gibbs walked down the stairs to meet them.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI," the man told them. "This here is Dr. Temperance Brennan and Dr. Camille Saroyan from the Jeffersonian."

"This is not your case," Gibbs told him. "If you haven't noticed, this is the _Naval_ Academy." He put great stress on the word "naval."

"And you must be Special Agent Gibbs from NCIS?" Booth asked, unperturbed. "I was told to expect to meet you here."

"By who?"

"Your director," Booth answered.

* * *

A/N: As always, reviews are very much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. I also need to thank my friend who has been editing this story and all of my current stories.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

"You expect me to believe that Director Shepard just handed over jurisdiction to the FBI?" Gibbs mocked.

"Your Director didn't hand the case over to us, just the body," one of the women, whom Gibbs identified as Dr. Brennan, put forward. "Obviously an ID at this stage of decomposition will be too complex for your agency and she wants one quickly, so unless you have another forensic anthropologist capable of doing so..." She let her point trail off.

Gibbs was definitely intrigued by the woman and her argument whereas Ziva moved away from her slightly and silently, all the while studying her features, stance and behaviour. Her boss had noticed the cautious response and smiled a little. "We will see," Gibbs muttered and allowed the women and FBI agent to follow them into the chapel.

Brennan immediately went to the body, startling McGee and Tony, who did not question her directly, but looked questioningly at Gibbs. He shook his head while Ziva shrugged. Brennan examined the remains from the left side of the missing wall pane and Ducky stood on the right.

"We need to take this wall panel down," Brennan told them.

Gibbs indicated to Tony and McGee to do so and they immediately did, pulling the large pane from the wall completely. The body did not fall out, even though Cam and Ducky were ready to catch, but remained slumped against the back of the wall.

"Male," Brennan commented as she inspected the remains. "Late teens to early twenties."

"He's wearing dress whites," Gibbs added in. "He was probably a Midshipman."

"Time of death is around ten to fourteen days ago," she continued.

"You can tell that without a liver temp?" Tony ejected in amazement.

Ziva narrowed her gaze mockingly at him and Gibbs resisted the temptation to hit him. Ducky merely shook his head at the young agent.

"Probably Caucasian," Brennan continued, ignoring the comment.

"Cause of death?" Gibbs questioned.

"Unsure at this stage," Brennan replied.

"Surprisingly fast decomposition," Cam commented as she inspected the body more closely.

"I'll get the gurney," Palmer announced, too nervous to voice an opinion in the presence of the well-known forensic anthropologist.

"Get everything back to the Jeffersonian," Brennan ordered and then turned to Gibbs. "Tell your forensic scientist to meet us there."

"You heard her," Booth told them when they didn't make a move.

Gibbs nodded and turned to his team. "Bag and tag the evidence and get it to Abby at the Jeffersonian."

"Thank you," Brennan told him.

"Be very aware that this is still my investigation," Gibbs said firmly.

"Understood, Agent Gibbs," Booth replied. He could tell that the older man was sizing him up and it was slightly unnerving.

"Then you're with me," Gibbs requested, nodding to his team to remain behind.

Gibbs stepped away from him and back towards the chapel's exit. Booth hesitated for a second, but then followed the older man hastily. "Where we headed?"

"Find out who's missing from classes," Gibbs answered sternly. "Not many Midshipmen go around wearing dress whites a fortnight before June Week."

"If you're so sure that you could get an ID that way, then why did you let Bones and I stay?"

"Humouring the Director," Gibbs replied, almost in very quick succession to the question, as though he'd anticipated it. He was, however, very surprised that the FBI agent did not ask him a different question. "And you didn't ask what June Week was."

"I was in the Rangers," Booth answered, swearing that he caught a glimpse of a smile from the other man. But just a glimpse.

---

The pristine and open nature of the Medico-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian Museum amazed and stunned NCIS Forensic Specialist Abigail Sciuto, but excited her beyond belief. Soon after her arrival, she realised that the scientists in the lab were just as amazed by her appearance as she was by the appearance of their lab.

"You must be Abby, the NCIS forensics specialist?" a woman, who introduced herself as Cam, asked her.

"That's me! Where do you want me?"

Cam took the stairs down to the ground floor quickly and then guided Abby up to the platform, swiping her card for access as she did so. As Abby walked up, she realised that the other scientists, including Ducky and Palmer, were gathered around an autopsy table and debating, from what she could hear, the cause of death.

"Too long for a knife and too wide for something like a fire poker," Zack commented, stopping his speech as the Goth scientist approached. He stood in awe, further attracting the attention of the others to the woman who just walked onto the platform.

"This is Abby Sciuto, NCIS' forensic scientist," Cam told them and then wordlessly invited Abby to join them at the table. She introduced the Jeffersonian team to her before turning her attention back to the case. "Definitive time of death?"

"About to go and work on it," Hodgins replied thinly.

"Any ideas, Miss Sciuto?" Brennan put forth, almost testing the young scientist. She had not been so impressed by her distinctive dress code, but the seemingly bouncy attitude had been a welcome change. That was until Abby opened her mouth.

"Miss Sciuto was my mother. Well, actually, she was Mrs. Sciuto, so that would make Miss Sciuto my spinster aunt who lives in Cincinnati. My dad always wondered why she never got marr-"

"Okay," Cam jumped in, cutting Abby off. She ignored the glare that Brennan was sending in her direction and turned to Angela. "Do you have enough to do a facial reconstruction?"

"Absolutely," came the reply and Abby jumped in excitedly.

"If you can get a face for me, I can compare to the list of missing midshipmen that McGee just emailed me."

"Great, while you two work on getting that ID and Hodgins gives us a more accurate time of death, we need to pinpoint a cause of death," Cam told the remaining 'squints.'

"Jethro will expect all of the above when he arrives," Ducky commented.

While Cam nodded, the statement did not sit well with Dr Brennan. "Well, Agent Gibbs will have to be patient if he wants a thorough investigation."

The derisive snort that was accidentally ejected from Palmer's mouth told her not to expect any form of patience from the lead investigating agent.

---

Booth had gone with the NCIS agents back to the Navy Yard, but didn't expect to spend very long there. And so they didn't. Leaving Agent DiNozzo and Officer David behind at NCIS headquarters, he travelled back across town to the Jeffersonian with Agents Gibbs and McGee in their Charger.

"Booth!" he heard his partner call out from across the room. "You took your time."

"Had to make a stopover," he answered before swiping entry to the platform.

"What have you got?" Gibbs demanded in a low tone.

"We've barely started the autopsy, Jethro," Ducky answered patiently.

"Cause of death is likely sharp force trauma," Cam added. "But we can't seem to agree on a type of murder weapon yet."

"But we're very sure that it is murder," Zack put in as soon as Cam had finished her sentence.

"Well, the kid was stuffed in the wall of a chapel, so yeah, it's murder," Gibbs fired back.

"Any idea as to the type of weapon used?" Booth asked lightly, attempting to diffuse the tense situation.

"A machete, maybe," Palmer added before the glares around him resulted in his silence for the rest of the day.

"Could it have been a machete?" Gibbs asked the group of scientists.

"I'm not comfortable making that assumption," Zack answered quickly.

Brennan formulated a quick addition to Zack's hasty answer. "We're still in the preliminary stages of our investigation, Agent Gibbs."

The silver-haired man merely nodded silently in response.

"He was killed approximately thirteen days ago," Hodgins shouted out from the lower level before racing up to them. "I found a species of fruit fly endemic to the Annapolis coastline around the wound, so you know the guy was more than likely killed at the Naval Academy or at least nearby. I was able to estimate the stage that the flies were in their life-"

"You're sure?" Gibbs asked, cutting him off.

"Yeah," Hodgins replied, a little disdainfully.

Again, Gibbs merely nodded before walking off in the direction of another room.

"You know, Booth always at least listens to how I did it," Hodgins called after him, shaking his head.

Ducky shrugged sympathetically at him, but Brennan and Booth simply ignored the issue and followed Gibbs into Angela's lab with McGee in tow, all the while wondering how on Earth Gibbs knew where to go.

"Got an ID yet, Abs?" Gibbs asked gruffly as soon as he entered the room.

"Actually, we don't," the woman seated beside her replied. She stood up and held her hand out to shake. Gibbs wearily took it. "Hi, Angela Montenegro."

"Special Agent Gibbs," he answered and then indicated in his younger agent's direction. "McGee."

"We have a face, Gibbs," Abby told him. "But it doesn't match any of the four Firsties that have been reported UA for the past two weeks. I even checked all Midshipmen at the academy. Nothing. He's not studying there, Gibbs."

"You run it against all military personnel reported UA?" Gibbs asked.

"Geez, why didn't I think of that?" Abby retorted, turning her eyes back to her computer screen.

Gibbs bent down, leaning in next to her left ear. "Sarcasm does not suit you, Abby."

Abby smirked as her computer chimed a result. "Wait a sec. We got a hit."

McGee leant forward and hit a few keys, bringing the man's ID up on the monitor. "Petty Officer First Class Alexis Thomas Cole, twenty-three years old."

"Enlisted?" Gibbs questioned. "Found dead at the Naval Academy in officer dress whites?"

"Apparently so, Boss," McGee answered dutifully.

"He's a SEAL," Booth read off the monitor. "Currently stationed at the Little Creek Naval Amphibious Base. He was assigned to Naval Special Warfare Support Activity One. We should check out his room at Little Creek."

Gibbs nodded and then turned back to McGee. "You got anything on his recent activity?"

McGee responded by viciously typing away at the computer and then verbalising his results. "He was in Bolivia for a week three weeks ago. Got back into Dulles the day he died."

"So he gets back to DC and then drives to the Naval Academy in Maryland where soon-to-be commissioned officers are studying," Angela said slowly. "Why?"

"That's what we're gonna find out," Gibbs replied. "Where did he stay in Bolivia? Any reason he was there?"

"He cited family reasons on his temporary release from active duty, but his only living relatives are in Seattle," McGee answered. "He landed in Santa Cruz de la Sierra but if he stayed in a hotel, it wasn't documented and he didn't use his credit card."

"Alias?" Booth added.

"But he used his own passport to get in and out of Bolivia," McGee told him.

"We found a piece of paper in the victim's left shoe," Brennan piped up.

"How do we know they were his shoes?" Booth questioned in return. "I mean, we've established that the dress whites weren't his, he's an enlisted SEAL, so what about the shoes?"

"Because the shoes didn't match the uniform," Gibbs answered, his mind flashing back to the crime scene and a vision of the shoes on their victim's feet. "He was wearing tennis shoes. What did the note say?"

"El Candelabro, 1086," Brennan replied quickly.

"That it?" Gibbs questioned and received a glaring nod back. "McGee?"

"Already on it, Boss," he said as he Googled the name. "Got it. It's a piano bar in Santa Cruz."

"What's the 1086 stand for?" Booth asked.

"Time?" Angela suggested.

"10.86?" Abby retorted in amusement. "I think that 10 is time and 8 and 6 are something else."

"Date?" McGee put in. "June's the sixth month."

"The eighth of June?" Booth thought aloud.

"Makes sense," McGee put in. "He was in Santa Cruz."

"That's our starting point," Gibbs piped up. "He was murdered the day he got back into the US. Something happened in Bolivia."

"How do we investigate it?" Booth asked. "It's Bolivia."

"Go there," Gibbs told him.

"Uh, Boss," McGee interrupted. "The Director's on a video call for you."

Gibbs sighed a little too loudly and grouchily. "Put her on the screen thingy."

McGee nodded and connected up his webcam with his computer and the main monitor before bringing the fiery red-haired head of their agency up on the screen.

"I do hope that you've made progress on this case, Jethro," Jenny's piercing voice said condescendingly. "I've already spent my morning fielding phone calls. Everyone from the Superintendent of the Naval Academy to the SECNAV wants to know if you have an ID and a reason for why the body was disposed in one of the oldest Naval buildings in the country."

"Well, we have an ID," Gibbs told her. "Petty Officer Alexis Cole, Naval Special Warfare Support Activity One."

"A SEAL?" Jenny asked, slightly shocked. "And what was an enlisted man doing at the Naval Academy?"

"Still working on that, Jen," Gibbs answered.

"How was he killed?"

"Still working on that too, Jenny. He was murdered."

"Shock horror," Jenny mocked in a not-so-friendly tone of voice. "Do you have anything useful for me?"

"Cole was in Bolivia before his death a fortnight ago," Gibbs answered.

"Do you know why?"

"No, but I don't think it was entirely legal. I'm sending DiNozzo and David down with Agent Booth and Dr Brennan to find out."

"You can't just send them to investigate this. It's way outside our jurisdiction," Jenny shot at him.

"Not anything official, just some background knowledge," Jethro told her.

"I want to know as soon as you anything official, Agent Gibbs," Jenny told him threateningly.

"I know that, Dir-" he began before the screen went black.

"Quite the formidable woman," Angela commented in a light-hearted manner, breaking the tense silence that had developed in the room.

"Officially, we don't have any weight to throw around in Bolivia, Gibbs," Booth told him.

"And that is why it'll remain unofficial," Gibbs answered with a slight smirk. The look, however, died away quickly as his expression became serious. "I do not have a good feeling about this case."

* * *

Please review. Let me know what you think and what you want to read.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Please keep them coming. Anthropologically speaking, the need for acclaim from one's peers is a basic human necessity.... I'll assume you all got that.

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

The four of them caught the Red Eye flight out of Dulles to Viru Viru International Airport in Santa Cruz that afternoon. Brennan had automatically upgraded her ticket to first class, causing Ziva to upgrade the rest of theirs, unbeknownst to the others.

"We're sitting in First Class!" Tony cheered as they boarded the plane.

Ziva reacted by angrily yanking him into his seat. "So that we may discuss a plan for when we land in Santa Cruz. There is no sense in having you two sitting in Economy while Dr Brennan and I sit in First Class."

"You upgraded your ticket without doing the same to ours?" Booth asked his partner, who returned the incredulous glare.

"Well, I'm just glad that I can sleep now," Tony announced, pulling out his pillow with his headphones already blasting music into his ears and a sleep mask over his eyes.

Ziva reached across Booth and pulled it off, grabbing his headphones out at the same time. "I did not upgrade you to sleep, Tony. We have work to do."

"Okay, who died and put you in charge?" Tony muttered, but it was definitely loud enough for Booth and Brennan to hear, let alone Ziva.

"Petty Officer Cole _is_ dead, Tony, but he did not put me in charge," Ziva quipped back.

Brennan did not see the fault in her logical answer, but Booth caught on to the messed-up idiom. He opened this mouth to question it, but Tony silenced him. "Little quirk she has," the NCIS agent muttered to him.

"I put me in charge," Ziva continued like nothing had happened. "How many of you have been to Bolivia?"

"I went there for an archaeological dig in the region of Tiwanaku," Brennan added into the conversation. The plane was taking off as she spoke so no answer came until they were in the air.

"An academic fact-searching mission does not count," Ziva rebutted. "We are going to see the seedy underside of the city."

"Doesn't every city have one?" Booth asked as Tony muttered, "Fact-finding."

Ziva ignored them and continued. "El Candelabro is an upmarket restaurant. Petty Officer Cole did not pay the bill if he ate at that restaurant."

"How is it that you know so much about Santa Cruz?" Tony asked slyly. "What was the astute, ass-kicking ninja doing in Bolivia?"

"Ninja? As in the specially trained guerrilla warriors of the Edo period in Japan?'' Brennan asked in an offhanded fashion.

"Yeah," Tony agreed with a perplexed expression and then looked hastily back at Ziva, wanting to hear a fascinating story.

"I was there to seduce a man, pull him back to my hotel room and then snap his neck with my bare hands," Ziva told him in a low and dangerous voice, one that definitely had him squirming back in his chair. "Any other questions?"

"Yes," Brennan piped up. "Why were you there to kill a man?"

Ziva glared back at her but didn't answer the question, preferring to move on to their plan. "We will need to go to the restaurant and see if they recognise who Cole was with. I may still have a friend in Santa Cruz who can put pressure on the restaurant's manager."

"Well, if that's the only plan we have," Tony put in. "Can I go to sleep now?"

The scowl that Ziva radiated out to him was far scarier than the story she told, but nonetheless, she agreed that it was pointless for them to stay awake when they needed to sleep before they arrived. There was no telling if they would get another chance over the next few days.

**---**

Meanwhile, Gibbs and McGee had made the three hour trip to the Little Creek Naval Amphibious Base in eastern Virginia. As a young seaman apprentice showed them to Cole's room, McGee was stipulating how the others were surviving on the flight.

"Well, Dr Brennan only flies first class, so Ziva had me use her credit card to upgrade all of their tickets," McGee told Gibbs. "I think Ziva has money, do you know if Zi...?" His voice floated away as Gibbs turned and glared at him. "Right, uh, how much further to Petty Officer Cole's room?"

"Just here, sir," the young sailor answered and then waited outside as they knocked and entered.

"You Petty Officer Damien Gray?" Gibbs asked the young man inside.

"Yes, sir," Gray answered, getting off his made bed quickly and needlessly standing at attention.

"Relax, sailor," Gibbs commented.

"Are you here about Alex?" Gray asked with a slight nervous stutter.

"Special Agents Gibbs and McGee. What can you tell us about your roommate?"

"Uh, he was quiet," Gray answered relaxedly. "Only time he really talked to any of us what at the mess. He was really focused on training. Probably was one of the best of us to go through recruitment."

"I know, I read his file," Gibbs told him. "He have any problems with any of the others here? Any of the officers, maybe?"

"No, he was never around to cause any trouble. He spent all his free time either here in the room or off base."

"Was he dating anybody?" McGee asked as he was looking around on Cole's side of the room.

"Yeah, Petty Officer Adriana Zevlikic. She's stationed at Norfolk. I guess Alex probably spent a lot of time over there."

"Uh, boss," McGee piped up.

Gibbs turned around to see him bent over under the bed. "What is it, McGee?"

"There's an unlocked safe down here. Looks like it was jimmied open with a crowbar or something like that. We should get it all back to Jeffersonian."

"Anything in the safe?" Gibbs asked, bending over to see.

"No, whoever it was cleaned the thing out," McGee answered quickly and then came across something. "Wait a sec, there's something here."

Gibbs handed him a pair of tweezers and an evidence bag and McGee retrieved the hidden and sole object remaining in the safe. "What is it?"

"Edge of a page," McGee answered slowly. "The ink is faded. We can probably restore this at the lab and find out how old it is."

"The rest of the book?" Gibbs questioned.

"Don't know that it was from a book, boss," McGee replied.

"Did you ever see Cole with anything suspicious?" Gibbs asked the young Petty Officer. "Do you know if anyone else was in here to open the safe?"

"Like a gigantic, old book? No. And no to the second question, too. I didn't even know that he had a safe under his bed. He never opened it, or even went down there, when I was around."

Gibbs nodded and then walked over to the Cole's bed and pulled the mattress up, looking underneath. McGee noticed that Gibbs realised something, seeing the expression dawn upon his face, and then watched him cut into the bottom of the mattress. But what Gibbs removed from it was something that McGee never expected to see.

"What is this, McGee?" Gibbs shot at him.

"It looks like a Cryptex," McGee answered uncertainly. He'd not seen anything like it, unless you count what was in the movie, and it was definitely a surprising find.

"As in The Da Vinci Code?" Petty Officer Gray asked from behind them.

"The Da Vinci Code?" Gibbs questioned both of them. "The book?"

"Yeah, you read it?" McGee asked excitedly, but the stare that he received back told him the very obvious answer.

"What is this, McGee?!" Gibbs demanded in an impatient voice.

McGee snapped into action and blurted out a response. "It's a method of keeping something hidden. There's a message inside, if it follows the line of the story. In 2005 an inventor from Washington State patented a line of Cryptexes, but I don't think he sold that many."

"There's a hidden message in here?" Gibbs asked, holding the Cryptex high above his head.

McGee nodded and Gibbs went to smash it on the bed head. "No! No, no, no, boss." Gibbs stopped immediately and looked inquisitively at his subordinate. "The scroll encases a vial, probably containing hydrochloric acid, and if you try to smash it open, the vial will break and dissolve the ink on the paper. End of hidden message."

"Alright," Gibbs said in a non-committal way. "We'll take it back to the Jeffersonian and the squints can open it."

"Squints?" McGee asked as they grabbed the remainder of the evidence they'd collected and left. "Wasn't that what Agent Booth was calling them on the way to the Jeffersonian?"

"Aha," Gibbs replied in a similar tone. "We'll head over to Norfolk. See if the girlfriend knew anything about Petty Officer Cole's mysterious dealings."

And as it turned out, the girlfriend knew nothing of Cole's constant and puzzling disappearances. She didn't even know that he'd gone to Bolivia while on leave a few weeks ago. After all, he had told her a month ago that he was going on a six-month deployment to the Gulf of Aden. None the wiser as they were before they left Little Creek, they drove back, rather silently, to DC. McGee spent most of the three hours trying to unlock the Cryptex but had little success.

They drove directly to the Jeffersonian and brought in the evidence. Abby was definitely happy to have something else to do, now having to sort through the safe, the piece of paper they found and dust prints off everything including the Cryptex and then run them through AFIS. Angela and Hodgins, meanwhile, were mesmerised by the thought of the Cryptex and unlocking it, and proceeded to attempt it while McGee attempted to track down the manufacturer.

"Special Agent Gibbs," Cam called out in a low voice, almost an inaudible whisper, from the second level. "Director Shepard arrived about an hour ago."

"She wanna to see me?" Gibbs asked, but Cam shook her head. "She didn't say."

Gibbs nodded and took the stairs rather quickly. He brushed past Cam without thanking her and walked out of the sliding to doors and on to the balcony.

"Bit late for you to be out, Director," Gibbs said, announcing his presence. "It's almost eleven." When she didn't answer, he took a few steps closer to her. "Are you mad at me or something?" he asked softly as walked up behind the beautiful redhead he once called his lover.

"What do you think, Agent Gibbs?" Jenny retorted angrily without even turning around.

Gibbs made a non-committed shrug and stood next to her, basking in the warm breeze of the summer's night. "Nice night."

"You came outside to discuss the weather with me, Jethro?" Jenny asked with a slightly triumphant smile.

"No, Director, I did not." Jenny registered the use of her title.

"Then why did you come out here?"

"I figured that we should probably talk," Gibbs said with another half-asked shrug. "Clear the air, you know."

"Talk or argue? We did plenty of that the other night."

"I don't want to argue with you again, Jenny."

Understanding the connotation behind him using her first name coupled with the softened, almost pleading tone that now escaped from his throat, she shuffled off the defensive and decided to listen. "Why did you come to my house the other night?" she asked softly.

Gibbs let out a long sigh and braced himself against the balcony's railing. "Not to argue with you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Concern."

"About, Jethro?" Jenny asked, trying to capture his gaze. "You're worried about me?"

He didn't answer her for several moments. When he finally did, he'd gone back on the offensive. "There are certain things you should have told me, Jenny. You know that."

"I think you're still confused about how the chain of command works around here, Jethro," Jenny shot back, her eyebrows raised and eyes flaring a dangerous shade of green. "I talk and you listen. End of chain. I don't need to tell you anything."

"Professionally?" Gibbs clucked. "You don't need to tell me anything, Jen, but I thought you would at least give me the benefit of such knowledge."

"Because of our past?"

"Because of our present," Gibbs snapped back. He lifted his hands off the railing and took a step towards her. There was little air between them now and only a few inches before he could close the gap. "I thought that you trusted me."

"Do you trust me?" Jenny retorted, not at all perturbed by his close proximity, but slightly concerned about her internal urges and passionate advocates.

He was silent again. Instead of answering, he took another step towards her, placing his hands on the railing on either side of her, pinning her body between his and certain death from a twenty foot drop.

It took Jenny almost a minute to recover from his action, his stance and his piercing glaze. They stood there during that minute, glaring at each other in a battle of wills, until Jenny made a move. "I thought not," she muttered before pushing past him and stalking back into the Jeffersonian.

* * *

A/N: So is there anything you want to read? Coming up in the next chapter- Tiva and BB in Bolivia and you find out a little more about what Petty Officer Cole was really involved in. Until next time, please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"What do you think is going on out there?" Hodgins remarked over the top of their discussion autopsy table.

"Don't ask, don't tell," McGee replied from the other side of the table. He briefly looked up in the direction of his arguing superiors and quickly returned his gaze back to their work.

"Sounds intriguing," Angela put in.

"Not when you work for them," Abby commented, but felt the need to clarify herself when she attracted questionable gazes from Hodgins and Angela. "The kids don't like it when mommy and daddy fight."

"Have you found out anything about the Cryptex yet?" McGee asked, changing the subject in an abrupt manner. Abby glared at him and his interruption. "What? When Gibbs gets back, he's gonna want to know what we've found. Do you want to make him angrier?"

"Well I found something on the page corner that you found in the safe in Petty Officer Cole's quarters," Abby told him. "Why don't you call Gibbs down here?"

McGee took another brief look in the direction of his boss. And his boss' boss. "No thanks. I choose life."

"Don't be such a baby, McGee. Gibbs will be down momentarily anyway. He knows that I found something."

"What do you got for me, Abs?" The piercing voice came out of nowhere but was all of sudden right behind them.

"Well Gibbs, I found something," Abby began rather smarmily. She shot a superior look in McGee's direction, who scowled back as subtly as possible, but enough for Gibbs to notice. "An imprint from another page left on the corner that we have."

"And what did this imprint say, Abby?"

She smirked as she brought the image up on the screen. There were some slight gasps and open stares around the room, but it was Gibbs' unique blasé stare that Abby turned to. "That's right, sir! It's the all-seeing eye."

"Don't call me sir," Gibbs muttered in her general direction.

"Why was the Eye of Providence marked on the corner of this page?" Zack questioned.

"And why was the book that it belonged to carrying that mark?" McGee added.

"We know it was a book?" Gibbs retorted.

"We're pretty sure by the type of paper," Abby told him. "It fits a specific profile for the period post-Renaissance."

"And why was this mark on the corner of the page?" Gibbs asked.

Silence ensued.

"Oh come on! You're all thinking it."

They spun around to stare at Hodgins, waiting for further explanation.

"Illuminati," he told them incredulously.

"Oh God," Angela muttered over the murmurs of scepticism.

"You're suggesting that he was killed by a secret society," McGee put forward.

"Or because of one," Abby added.

"You get anything off the Crypto-thingy?" Gibbs asked her.

"Not yet. We're trying to work out how to open it without damaging the message inside."

"And so far?"

"Nothing. Bupkis. Zip. Zilch-"

"I get the picture, Abby. Does anyone have anything else?"

"We are still working on the weapon which was used to kill him," Zack put in rather astutely. "I am having an array of blades sent to me so that I can determine the approximate standard measure for the width of the weapon."

"McGee," Gibbs called out to the only agent he had left in the country. "I wanna know everything about Petty Officer Cole when I come back in the morning." And without another word, he stormed out.

"He's going home?" Angela asked with some indignation.

"Unlikely," McGee remarked as he walked back to his computer. "Gibbs will probably go back to the Navy Yard."

"I wonder what the others are doing," Abby commented in an off-handed fashion.

---

The interior of Santa Cruz was well lit as the sun set over the horizon. Young Latino boys kicked a soccer ball around in the street, their mothers conferring on the sidewalk, as the cab driver took a side street detour around the back of the city under Ziva's orders. Her colleagues were unsure of her reasoning, but the paranoia that crept up on the former secret agent was not something they wished to trifle with. The four of them were well-dressed for an evening out, or in one particular restaurant to be more precise. They had left Viru Viru Airport that morning for the headquarters of the Bolivian National Police in Santa Cruz, the Carabineers. Ziva ducked out for two hours to discuss the matter with her contact, leaving Tony, Brennan and Booth alone to figure out Cole's movements while he was in country, much to the dismay of some very hostile officers. But it appeared that their manner was to shift when Ziva arrived back. They assisted the group in securing a reservation at El Candelabro and provided them with the adequate attire for the evening.

And so they were on their way to subtly interview, or rather make polite conversation with, the manager of the restaurant and learn exactly who Cole was meeting a few weeks prior. The taxi dropped them off outside and they were immediately seated at one of the best tables in the place. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that that was due to Ziva.

"I spoke to my contact here, who has assured me that the manager of El Candelabro will give us his _full_ cooperation," Ziva told the others in a low voice after they'd received menus and shooed the waiter away.

"Are you gonna tell us who your contact is?" Tony asked. "Someone you knew from the last time you were here?"

"Perhaps."

"Seafood sounds good," Booth commented in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

"I don't think you should try it, Booth," Brennan told him, reaching across to point something else out for him on his menu. "I would go with the chicken."

"Why?"

"Because it's unlikely to be fresh. Bolivia is a landlocked country. No sea."

"Fine." Booth conceded that there was no choice but to give in. And so when the waiter came back five minutes later, he ordered the chicken. The food did not take long to be served after that, along with an expensive bottle of champagne—compliments of the manager, their overly enthusiastic waiter had told them. It left Brennan, Booth and Tony wondering exactly what type of favour Ziva had pulled earlier that day.

Midway through their meal, a rather short and balding man in an expensive suit walked towards their table. Ziva was the first to notice him and motioned to the others to stop eating. He stopped beside her and introduced himself in accented English. "My name is Raoul Montez and I am the manager. I would like to make sure that this meal is to your standards and ask if there is anything else I can do for my very important American guests."

"Yes, _Senõr_ Montez, there is something," Ziva spoke up. She removed a photograph from her purse and passed it to him discreetly. She also dropped her voice but she needn't have worried—the noise level around them was several decibels high. "This American sailor was in your restaurant two weeks ago. Do you know him?"

"I'm sorry," Montez replied immediately after glancing at the photo. "But I do not know this man."

Booth, Tony and Ziva exchanged glances but Brennan's face remained unchanged, her manner blissfully unaware. For a few seconds at least. "I think that you're lying," she remarked bluntly and rather loudly.

Booth nudged her in the ribs gently.

"What was that for, Booth?"

Tony had to stop himself from laughing both at Brennan's comment and Ziva's succeeding eye-rolling. Choosing to ignore her colleague, the self-proclaimed team leader again addressed the manager. "I will remind you that I spoke to Jorge Rojas only a few hours ago. Would you like me to talk to him again? Ring him right now?"

Montez sighed heavily. "No, I would not. I do not know the name of the man he was with, but that man comes in here often."

"Has he come here with Petty Officer Cole before?" Tony asked pertinently.

"I do not think so. He is always with a different man and they appear to be discussing business of some kind. He pays by credit card. I will find you the receipt. Will you meet me at the rear door after your meal? It is unwise for us to speak so openly in a public place."

Ziva nodded and the manager left quickly, walking back through the door marked _'Solo el Personal.'_ She hurried the group to finish their meal and Tony and Booth finished off the bottle of alcohol, citing that it was too good to waste. She paid for their meal and they quickly made their way outside. After instructing Brennan to call a cab, she and Tony walked through the alley to the rear of the restaurant and waited for Montez, who had seen them leave. He arrived less than a minute later.

"His name is Charles Baxter," he told them as he passed a copy of the receipt to Ziva. "Or that was at least the name on his credit card. He always uses the same one, but the men he has met with called him Evan. I do not know a last name."

"Was he here recently?" Tony asked.

Montez nodded. "Yes. A week before he met with your Petty Officer Cole, he met with another man."

"You got a name for him?"

"No, but he was wearing a uniform."

"What type of uniform?" Tony ejected with slight annoyance.

"The Australian Naval Officer uniform, I believe," Montez replied as he took a step away from Tony. "That is what was on the shoulder."

"Australian Navy?" Ziva questioned with an incredulous look. "Do you know a rank?"

"I am sorry, it was unfamiliar to me."

Ziva nodded and turned to walk away. "Thank you, _Senõr_ Montez."

The manger grabbed her arm to stop her and Tony took a forceful step towards him, flicking the arm away with his right hand.

"I am sorry, _Senõrita_," Montez said quickly, edging further away from Tony and his deathly piercing gaze. "But what will you tell _Senõr_ Rajos?"

"You needn't worry," Ziva told him as she nodded to Tony to leave. "You were very helpful. Thank you." And she walked away without another word, Tony trailing a little too close behind her, though it was not something that Ziva seemed to mind.

"So your contact here is Jorge Rojas, the Chief Inspector of the Carabineers Headquarters here in Santa Cruz?" Tony asked quickly as he raced closer to her. Well, closer than he already was.

"An Australian Naval Officer?" Ziva questioned again, ignoring his last question. She had to admit though, it was hard for her brain to focus on changing the subject with his hot breath trailing down her neckline.

"I'll let Gibbs know when we get to the hotel," Tony replied. "How many Australian Naval Officers could have been in Santa Cruz approximately four weeks ago anyway?"

---

"What is she doing?" they all muttered simultaneously. Helpless, Booth, Brennan and Tony watched on as Ziva nearly destroyed the first room. She had begun by stripping the king size bed of its sheets and rubbing her hands all over the surface of the mattress, then dropped to her knees and proceeded to scour around underneath the bed and the dressers, and in the wardrobe.

While she did so, Brennan, who got over the astonishment first, set up a video call to the others back at the Jeffersonian.

"What is Ziva doing?" McGee asked over the computer. They could all see the woman's obsessive scouring behaviour in the background.

Ziva said nothing and continued her work, now flipping the mattress off the bed and checking the underside of it frantically. Tony stepped forward, finally acting, and pulled her away. "There's nothing there, Ziva." He was still holding on to her, almost afraid of what she would do if he let go. But after a few moments, she shrugged him off and walked towards the balcony of their hotel suite.

"It's called the wilderness of the mirrors," came a voice unknown to the NCIS team.

"Sweets, how nice of you to join us," Booth remarked with a smirk.

"It's a state of extreme paranoia often exhibited in spooks and spies of the covert world," Sweets continued. "Don't be surprised if Officer David sleeps in the wardrobe tonight."

"Can we get back to the case?"

"Sure, Gibbs," Tony answered dutifully. "Tonight I discovered that Petty officer Cole met with a man by the name of Charles Baxter, but it's probably a fake. His real name probably starts with Evan, and a week before he met with Cole at El Candelabro he met with another man. Manager of the restaurant thinks that it was an Australian Naval Officer."

"You discovered this, Tony?" Ziva shot at him from across the room. "I thought there was no 'I' in 'team,' as you like to say."

"No, but there's a 'me,'" Tony retorted.

"Enough," Gibbs muttered tiredly. He looked at Abby who was already typing away at her computer furiously.

"Okay!" she announced after a few minutes. "Lieutenant Commander Aaron Hawking, Royal Australian Navy. He was in Santa Cruz four weeks ago for three days before flying back to Sydney. Currently stationed at the _HMAS Kuttabul_ Naval Base in Sydney. That's all I could get you for now."

"Flights?" Gibbs muttered to her and she nodded before turning her eyes back to the computer.

"Did you learn anything from your end?" Ziva asked, walking across the room and back towards the desk where the laptop was set up.

"Nothing new," McGee told her. "We haven't been able to get the Cryptex open yet."

"Well, did you track down the manufacturer, Probie?" Tony shot at him.

"Geez, why didn't I think of that? I tried, but since the _Da Vinci Code_, these things have been popping up everywhere."

"You four will be flying to Sydney tomorrow," Gibbs announced. "Your flight leaves at 0900. I'll meet you there." And then he cut the transmission.

"So now we're flying to Sydney because Agent Gibbs says so," Brennan commented incredulously and quite angrily.

Booth merely shrugged back at her. His focus was still on Ziva. "Wilderness of the mirrors? Just what were you doing before NCIS?"

Ziva looked up and took a few moments to answer. When she did, her voice was low and her reply quick and simple. "Mossad."

Booth's eyes widened a little but he did not react otherwise. He merely nodded and changed the subject. "In case we need to leave quickly and get split up, it's better for us to share a room with someone we already know and trust. I'll go with Bones in the other room and you two can stay here."

"But Booth, there's only one king bed in each room," Brennan pointed out. A shrug was the reply.

"Well, your Sweets guy said that Ziva will probably sleep in the wardrobe anyway," Tony added with a smile.

Ziva shot him an ugly look back.

"What? You're welcome to share the bed with me."

"It does not matter, Tony. I do not think I will be sleeping tonight."

"Well, then I'm pretty sure I can come up with something else for us to do," Tony said with a boyish smile.

Ziva shook her head and laughed. "Ah yes, Tony. Only in your sleep, perhaps."

"In my dreams, Ziva, not sleep, and I was thinking we could play a game."

The suggestion brought a very seductive smile to Ziva's face. "A love game, yes, Tony?"

"Or monopoly," Tony replied, caught a little off-guard by Ziva's sudden change in mood.

"Alright, Bones, let's get outta here," Booth announced and all but pushed her and their go-bags out the door and into the next room.

"Did you hear the sexual innuendo in their conversation, Booth?" Brennan asked as Booth securely locked the front door. "How come our conversations never seem to involve that? Am I really not that attractive to you? Are you more attracted to the Israeli next door?"

"What?" The line questioning slightly startled Booth. "Of course you're attractive," he muttered under his breath, half not wanting her to hear.

"Am I attractive to you?"

"Which side of the bed do you want?" Booth asked, ignoring the last question.

"Why do you always do that?" Brennan asked, setting her go-bag down on the right side of the bed. "You always change the subject when you don't feel comfortable answering."

"Look, can we not discuss this now? I'm tired and we have yet another long flight tomorrow."

"Fine, Booth, but we weren't having a discussion. I asked you one question."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm going to take a shower. Then I'm going to sleep." And he picked up his go-bag and walked into the bathroom, leaving Brennan alone, sitting on the bed.

Tony, meanwhile, was playing solitaire on Ziva's Macbook in the other room. Both he and Ziva had changed into the more comfortable clothing of a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The door to the balcony was open, but Ziva was still sitting inside, not daring to walk into the dark of the night. There was a lot to be concerned about since she arrived in Santa Cruz and making herself an open target was definitely one of them. She had no idea if the cartels even remembered her, but at the same time, what she accomplished in Bolivia six years earlier was hard to forget.

Looking over at his partner seated on a settee next to the sliding door, Tony stopped his game and shut off the laptop. "You okay, Ziva? Something you wanna talk about?"

"I am fine," she replied quickly.

"Come and sit down." He motioned to the bed he was sitting on. "I'm promise there's no explosives wired to it. Look." He stood up and jumped up and down on the springs as if to prove a point.

Ziva smiled at him and stood, closing and locking the sliding door before walking over to Tony and sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed.

"Do you want to tell me what happened in Bolivia? I'm not going to tell anyone. I can keep secrets you know."

"You proved that last year," she quipped back, but immediately regretted it. He could see the apology written in the lines of her face. "I'm sorry," she muttered needlessly.

"What happened, Ziva?" He was using his best supportive voice and it seemed to be working.

Ziva edged forward, closer to Tony, and began her tale. "Forensic accountants at Mossad tracked money used to finance Al-Qaeda operations to a drug cartel here in Santa Cruz. It was investigated and my team was sent in. I was in for the kill."

"And you were successful," Tony told her, remembering her earlier story on the plane.

"Yes, I killed the head of the operation, but we were compromised immediately after. Two members of my team were slaughtered in front of me and the only other surviving member, Yakim, was seriously injured. I pulled him out of the hotel - leaving the bodies of my friends behind - and into a taxi, knowing the cartel was right behind us. I threw the cab driver out of his own vehicle, but I had to get out of there."

"How did you?" Tony asked. He was unconsciously holding on to both of her hands tight, but there was not even a flicker of complaint.

"I drove to Cochabamba where there was a team waiting for us and we drove Yakim to the nearest hospital. They told me that I saved his life."

Tony smiled. "You saved his life." But Ziva did not return the smile. If at all possible, her face fell further at the notion.

"He committed suicide a week later," she told him in barely more than an audible whisper.

Tony had no reply to this, but he could see the tears brimming around her eyes. Edging closer to her, he put one arm around her shoulders and the other around her chest, pulling her into a tight hug. She rested her head on his chest for a few moments before pulling away. And he let her.

"You know, you never hug me," Tony remarked with another smile. "Abby hugs me. Admittedly, it would be a little weird if McGee or Gibbs did, but you never hug me."

She just smiled back. "We should sleep now. We have a long flight tomorrow."

"I thought that you weren't going to sleep," Tony said as he lifted up the covers for them to crawl under.

"I feel much safer now. You are my partner, Tony. I am confident that you won't let anything happen to me."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I apologise most ardently for how long it took me to get this chapter up. I had two major assessments last week that took up most of my time and work on top of that. So here is a slightly longer chapter for everyone. Thanks to all those people who continuously read and review this story. I am very appreciatory. Please do review this chapter and let me know what you think. Or if you just wanna rant about Legend Part 2, I'll listen and reply to eveyone who sends a signed reviews, but anonymous reviews are most welcome too.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

"What have you got for me, Abs?"

"Ergh, don't try and channel Gibbs, McGee," came the reply. "It doesn't even almost do him justice."

"Alright, fine, but when Gibbs calls and wants to know what we've found, what do I tell him?" McGee asked with some frustration.

"You mean what I've found? Relax, McGee."

"Have you found anything?"

Abby just smiled and nodded to the bearded Jeffersonian scientist that she was working with. "Put it up on the screen."

"Is that the corner of the page I found in the safe?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, and the all seeing eye," Hodgins replied as he zoomed in on the image. "But if you look underneath it..." He continued to zoom in on the image and dropped the view down slightly.

"What does it say?" McGee squinted at the screen. "Is that Latin?"

"_Novus ordo_ ..." Abby read. "The rest is cut off."

"_Novus ordo seculorum_, maybe?" Hodgins suggested. "It's on the reverse side of the Great Seal of the United States."

"And it means?" McGee pushed.

"It's loosely translated to 'new world order,' but it actually means a 'new order of the ages,'" Hodgins told him.

Angela, who had just arrived behind the group, took a step closer to the monitor and squinted at the image and phrase on the screen. "Is that an 'M?' After the word, _ordo_."

Hodgins clicked the button on the remote and zommed in as close as he could without distorting the image too much. "It is an M," he concluded and then whispered his train of thought. "_Novus ordo mundi._"

"Gazoontite," Abby said with a smile.

"_Novus ordo mundi_ is exactly translated to 'new world order,'" Hodgins told them.

"So not Illuminati?" McGee asked in a confused voice.

"No," Hodgins muttered slowly.

"Well, don't leave us all in suspense, Hodgins," Abby blurted out. "Who?"

---

The flight to Sydney was not at all pleasant for Tony. Aside from being seated next to a crying infant and his cooing mother in coach with Ziva and Booth, there was heaviness weighing down his conscience; a bad feeling that crept up on him in the dark of the night as they made the trip over the South Pacific Ocean. On his other side, Ziva was sleeping like a baby. Or like he wished the baby next to him would sleep. She had decided not to waste her money upgrading them all to first class when they didn't need to be together and their economy flights were provided by NCIS, and since departing from Santa Cruz she had found it much easier to relax and drift off to sleep. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud snore. He looked to his right and smiled. Admittedly, Tony was unsure how someone so small could make so much noise, but he was definitely amused by the startled glances that her form was attracting.

They had aisle seats and Booth was on Ziva's other side, tossing around in a restless sleep. Tony resigned himself to shoving a pair of headphones in his ears and watching the array of British soaps that were now showing on the big screen. When they finally landed in Sydney at 0800h two days after they left Bolivia, Tony gave new meaning to the look 'red-eye.' Gibbs' flight had arrived from Washington half an hour earlier and they met up outside the baggage carousel before going through customs.

"Nice flight?" Gibbs mocked upon seeing the expression on his senior field agent's face.

Tony made a low growling response as Brennan answered for him. "An excellent flight. I slept the whole way."

"So did Ziva," Tony added.

"Well, I'd have slept better if we were in first class," Booth shot rather irately in the direction of his partner.

They passed through customs rather quickly and with relative ease and walked out of the designated area and underneath a sign that welcomed them to Australia. As they walked into the arrivals section, a red-haired woman in her late thirties stepped forward to greet them, a burly younger man standing directly behind her.

"NCIS?" she asked.

"Special Agent Gibbs," the lead agent told her and then introduced in travelling companions. "My team—Special Agent DiNozzo and Officer David. And this is FBI Special Agent Booth and his partner from the Jeffersonian Institute, Dr. Brennan."

"Welcome to Australia. I'm Detective Samantha Harris from the Australian Federal Police and this is my partner, Ethan Galindez. If you'll follow us, we should get back to headquarters."

"Have you found Lt. Commander Hawking yet?" Gibbs asked, ignoring his brain registering how astonishingly beautiful the redhead before him was. This was neither the time nor the place, his mind agreed.

"He has been off the clock since yesterday afternoon," she answered, as all seven of them walked rather quickly to the two silver sedans that were parked in a section marked, 'Police Vehicles Only,' not far away from the terminal's exit.

"On Liberty?" Gibbs asked.

Samantha paused for a second and then answered, once she recognised the American term. "Yes. We are still looking for him."

"And you're just going to help us track him down?" Booth asked with some doubt in his voice.

"Believe it or not, Agent Booth, if Commander Hawking has anything to do with your homicide, I would like to know about it as well," Samantha retorted fierily. "Did you really think that we would stonewall our American friends? Agent Gibbs, Agent Booth, I will drive you to headquarters. The others can go with Ethan."

And so they set off towards the city, arriving at the Sydney office of the Australian Federal Police twenty minutes later. They were greeted with a great number of stares from the officers and clerks that had stopped work just to check them out before Samantha led them into a conference room. Gibbs and Booth had brought her up to speed on the case, and Tony and Ziva had done the same for Ethan on the drive there. Now all she really wanted to do was find Hawking and learn exactly what business he had four weeks ago in Bolivia.

"We're electronically tracking Hawking but he hasn't made any credit card or EFTPOS transactions since he left Kuttabul, nor has he made any calls on his mobile," Ethan told the group.

"It's possible, in fact probable, that he'd have a second phone for his other business," Samantha told them. "I'll tell you what we do know about Hawking though." She brought his file up on the SmartBoard. "Lieutenant Commander Aaron Hawking, Royal Australian Navy. Thirty-five years old, lives alone in an apartment in Woolloomooloo."

"Woolloomoo-what?" Tony blurted out.

"Woolloomooloo," Ethan clarified. "It's a suburb in Sydney, not ten minutes from HMAS Kuttabul."

"Of course it is," Tony muttered sheepishly.

"What else have you got on Hawking?" Gibbs asked.

"Training systems officer. A year ago, he made the transfer to the Navy Reserve and since then, he's been contracted out on and off to the DSD," Samantha told them.

"DSD?"

"Defence Signals Directorate," Ethan replied. "Similar to your NSA, but it's a part of our Department of Defence."

"This does not sound good," Booth commented. "Not if Hawking is involved in this. It's starting to sound like a global conspiracy."

"Just Hodgins' type of thing," Brennan added with a smile.

"Where has he been deployed?" Gibbs questioned.

"Just about everywhere. Persian Gulf, Timor, the Solomons. He was liaising with NATO at their Undersea Research Centre at La Spezia, Italy and at the Allied Command Transformation in Norfolk, Virginia."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When was Hawking at Norfolk?" Gibbs clarified with a frustrated voice.

"April to May last year," Samantha replied after re-reading the file. "Just before he transferred to the Reserve... You seem a little uncomfortable?"

"Petty Officer Cole was based in Little Creek," Gibbs replied. "Right next door."

"Hawking requested that assignment when the opportunity came up," Ethan told them. "But his record is unblemished."

"I bet that it is." It was Booth that spoke up this time. "The dutiful officer is not likely to arouse suspicion when asking for an assignment that he's deserved."

"So? Maybe that's just it and this whole thing about Petty Officer Cole is just a coincidence?" Ethan suggested uncertainly.

"No such thing," Gibbs remarked, then turned around to bark at his senior field agent. "DiNozzo! Have McGee find out everything about Cole from the time he was born. Now!"

"Do the same for Hawking," Booth told Ethan in a lower voice.

Ethan just nodded and left the room. He came back fifteen minutes later just as the Americans were receiving a phone call from Washington.

"Put him on speaker," Gibbs told Tony, who answered the phone.

Tony did so and then addressed McGee. "Right, you've got all of us. What'd you find out, Probie?"

"Since you wanted everything, we have everything," they heard Abby's voice shoot out. "Alexis Thomas Cole, born January 14, 1985 in Manhattan, New York to Thomas Cole, CEO of Rycorp Industries, and Melinda Bennett, senior editor for Time Magazine. They both retired very wealthy in 2002 when their son graduated. He attended the Epiphany Elementary School in Manhattan, then Xavier School, a Jesuit boarding school in Connecticut. He got into Yale studying Engineering, but get this, Gibbs, he dropped out in his final year. Never completed his degree."

"I spoke to his roommate at college," McGee spoke up. "His father was so furious that he cut him off. He enlisted after that."

All eyes were on the speaker phone. Except for two. Ziva's. She had been the only one to see her partner's face go from calm to complete horror in a matter of seconds and then slowly revert back as he struggled with the realisation. Instinctively and very subtly, she touched his arm to see his was okay. He just looked at her and wordlessly nodded, understanding the meaning. He was grateful when she did not question him further and he brought himself back to the trans-continental conversation.

Zack was now speaking. "I have definitively determined the murder weapon. After cleaning the bones, I matched a large selection of different blades and I have finally found one that I am content with. A longsword."

"As in Excalibur, King Arthur, Dark Ages sword?" Booth ejected.

"Yes and the sword would have completely impaled his body, back to front, slicing through the superior aspect of the heart," Ducky added.

"There were some significant fractures to the inferior angle of the left scapula and much smaller microfractures on the spinous process of the sixth thoracic vertebrae," Zack continued. "The fifth costal cartilage was torn, probably from the sword's exit."

They were all quite surprised to hear Palmer's voice join in next. "We also found nicks along the sternum where the sword punctured through the chest cavity. It's possible that we can match them to a particular sword."

"Do you have a particular sword, Palmer?" Gibbs questioned.

"Uh... no," Palmer answered unsurely.

"Tell them what else you found, Zack," Hodgins told him smugly.

"When I saw the mark on the page, I remembered something I saw in Limbo a few weeks ago. It was marked on the frontal bone of a set of male remains from Bavaria in the late eighteenth century. It was a complete set of remains so I went back over them. The cause of death on those remains was very similar to that of Cole's remains. Same approximate width of the sword, same location of the trauma and same fractures on vertebrae, sternum and scapula, but the puncture was made further down—the ninth intercostal space."

"What would cause that?" Ziva asked.

"A height difference," Brennnan explained. "The person who killed this first man was at least three or possible even four inches shorter than the person who killed Petty Officer Cole."

"So this murder is linked to a murder from the 1700's that took place in Germany?" Booth questioned.

"There's nothing definitive to suggest that," Brennan told him. "This is still just circumstantial speculation. Keep working on it, Zack."

"Will do, Dr Brennan," Zack answered.

"Anything else, Abby?" Gibbs asked.

"Go on, Hodgins, you tell them," Abby prompted.

"Well, this is more Angela's discovery," Hodgins said.

"I don't care who made the discovery, just tell me!" Gibbs yelled at the speaker phone. He would never know, or maybe he would, but Abby, Angela and Hodgins jumped back a foot each.

"Okay... underneath the mark of the Eye of Providence was a Latin phrase," Hodgins explained. "At first we thought that it was _novus ordo seculorum_, which appears on the reverse side of our Great Seal, but then Angela noticed an 'M' after the word _ordo_. The rest of it was cut off."

"And this phrase means?" Gibbs prompted.

"'New order of the ages' but it is loosely translated to mean 'new world order'. It is very likely that the phrase here is _novus ordo mundi_, which exactly means 'new world order.'"

"And this is relevant because?" Booth questioned.

"Because we're not dealing with the Illuminati. We're dealing with the Knights of the New World Order."

It was Gibbs' turn to ask a question with the same incredulous tone as Booth. "So? What's the difference?"

"In their ideology, not much," Hodgins clarified. "But I have heard that their methodology is quite different."

"You've heard?"

"There isn't a lot known about them."

"Are you sure?" Ziva took her turn to question this new development. "I've never heard of them."

"Exactly," Abby told her.

"They are way underground," Hodgins added. "We don't know how far up the chain of command they may have infiltrated, but look at their position globally— and that's just with what we know and have found out in a matter of days."

"See what else you find out about them," Gibbs ordered.

"Okay, but we'll do it silently. Secret societies aren't very happy when you get close to uncovering their great secret."

Gibbs smiled slightly for the first time in a few days and ended their phone call. Ziva, who'd been watching Tony the entire time, was about to question him when Ethan came running in after leaving the room briefly to take a phone call.

"We've got him," he announced. "He set up a meeting with his bank to withdraw a large sum of money in cash. The meeting's in an hour at the Westpac Bank, Martin Place."

"Let's move," Gibbs announced and the others, including Booth and Brennan, reacted immediately.

"Wait," Samantha spoke up. "We'd be better to catch him with the money than without. There aren't many legal things you can use a sum of cash that size for. Let's stake out the area and catch him on his way out."

There was silence and all eyes turned to Gibbs, who finally nodded. "Okay, what do you suggest then, Detective Harris?"

"Two in the bank's waiting room."

"Booth, Brennan," Gibbs told them.

"Ethan will be near the exit," Harris suggested.

"Where else?" Gibbs prompted.

"Westpac is nearer to the top of Martin Place on a pretty steep incline. Depending on how he plans to exit the area, there are two train stations and several bus services. Martin Place station is closer but it's only on one line directly. If he wants to get further away faster, he'd head to Wynyard, which is downhill, and if he makes it there he can get to pretty much anywhere in Sydney and we may not catch him."

"And he spots us and runs, he'll head down hill," Gibbs lamented. "What else is around there?"

"There's a war memorial a block or so down and a cafe diagonally opposite to the bank," Ethan put in.

"DiNozzo, David, take the cafe," Gibbs told them. He turned to Samantha and smiled. "You and I will take the further end of Martin Place, near the memorial."

Samantha smiled and they moved out in their teams.

---

Ziva watched in disgust as Tony scoffed down the waffle he was eating. "We are on duty, Tony!"

"I know, that's why I'm eating it quickly," he replied with his mouth full.

Ziva sighed but didn't turn away. The waffle did look rather delicious with caster sugar on top, followed by white chocolate ice-cream and Lindt milk chocolate sauce. Tactfully, she chose a different subject to discuss as she sipped her latte. "Are you going to tell me what happened in the conference room today?"

"What do you mean?" Tony blurted out very quickly and obviously.

"Oh come on, Tony, you looked like you saw a ghost," Ziva retorted.

He sighed and looked away from her.

"What? Did I say it wrong?"

"No. You got that one right."

"Then what is it that you're not telling me?"

Tony edged his seat away from her and put his fork and knife down. "Why is it so important to you?"

"Because you are my partner, Tony. Remember Bolivia? You were there to hear my past. Why do you not wish to let me return the favour? Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. This has nothing to do with that. We shouldn't be talking about this when we're on the clock."

"Why? Do you know our victim?"

"No. I just..." He paused uncomfortably before choosing a response. "I went to the same high school as he did. Xavier in Connecticut."

"And? You looked worse when Hodgins mentioned these Knights of the New World Order. You shouldn't fear them, Tony. They probably don't even exist."

"Oh, they do."

"And how do you know that?" Ziva spat out with a arrogant raise of the eyebrows.

"Because I used to be one," Tony admitted angrily.

Ziva stared blankly at him for a moment before they were interrupted by Booth's voice in their ears. "He's heading out now. Black backpack over his right shoulder; wearing jeans, white shirt and a beige jacket."

"Time to move," they heard Gibbs reply.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Sorry again for the long update, but I am in the middle of a never ending assessment period. Well, it is the end of semester. The Lindt cafe in this chapter is my favourite place to eat with my freind and editor in the city. The two of us carefully planned the scene in the next chapter the last time we were in Martin Place. Yes, people who overheard us thought we were weird... or really writers. Ah, having them in Sydney gives me so much to write about. And the waffle that Tony's eating is my favourite dish from the Lindt cafe.... so much chocolate. Okay, so these Knights of the New World Order don't actually exist, at least I don't think that they do, but the conspiracy theory about the New World Order does.

So theories for Aliyah!!!! If the promo is anything to go by, then I think Vance will be the one staying. NCIS has an assistant director after all and the SecNav did mention plans for him during Semper Fidelis.

Please Review.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Tony and Ziva rose from the chairs quickly. They'd left Ziva's credit card details with the waitress already in case the need arose for a quick getaway—and they were right. But just as Ziva grabbed her coat, Ethan's voice buzzed over their intercom.

"Wait."

"Wait for what?" came Gibbs' angry voice.

"Follow him. There's a guy in a black coat and grey suit across the road from me... about ten metres away."

"He's making a drop," Samantha said, voicing her sudden realisation. "That's awfully risky considering he just picked the money up."

"Somebody doesn't trust him with it," Booth commented from inside the bank.

"DiNozzo, David, get photos of our mystery man," Gibbs ordered. "Galindez, Booth, Brennan, stand at a distance. Once the drop is made, we take Hawking."

"And the mystery man?" Ethan put forward.

"You wanna find something, you follow it," Samantha told him. Gibbs glared at her suspiciously but didn't say anything. She ignored his glare and addressed her junior partner again. "Did you have the bank record the serial numbers on all of the bills?"

"You know I did," Ethan answered with a smile that only he could see.

"We're letting the mystery man get away?" Brennan asked anxiously.

"For now, Dr Brennan," Gibbs replied monotonously. "We'll catch up with him later."

"He's exiting the building," Booth told them. Inside the bank, he and Brennan stood up from their seats in the waiting room and followed Hawking out the front automatic doors. They took a left so as to not look suspicious, and stopped while Brennan pulled out her cell phone as if she was making a call. Ethan looked from his newspaper but didn't move. Tony and Ziva had left their table at the Lindt cafe and edged closer to the mystery man in the grey suit. Ziva was standing in front of Tony and as they absently made conversation, she took photos on her cell phone.

"Making the swap," Ethan's voice told them. He watched as Hawking and the man exchanged backpacks subtly and then bid each other goodbye. To a passer-by who was not paying much attention, it looked like two friends who had met quickly on the street and gone on their way. Nobody would really notice the bag swap. "The swap's been made."

"Start to move," Gibbs ordered slowly and in a low voice. "But we're not taking him down until the other man is out of sight."

"Understood," came four different voices simultaneously.

As the funds' recipient walked away and down the stairs to the underground Martin Place train station, Tony and Ziva approached Hawking, who was heading downhill as expected: Booth and Brennan came from the right with Ethan bringing up the rear. But Ziva realised something as she walked closer—he seemed increasingly paranoid and kept looking around. Not a moment later, he broke into a run.

"He's spotted us," Ziva told Gibbs and Samantha through her microphone.

It was almost five-thirty in the afternoon and human traffic was rife in the plaza. It was the centre of Sydney's CBD, so suits were aplenty in the area. Tony and Booth were ahead of the ladies, pushing more forcefully through the crowd of people as Hawking ran past the Channel 7 studios and bolted across Castlereagh Street. Cars skidded to a stop and horns blared in every direction as Tony and Booth chased him across the road; Ziva, Brennan and Ethan following not-so-closely behind. Hawking took a dive around a group of young teens sporting skateboards and Booth took his chance and followed, as Tony went around the other side of the amphitheatre. With virtually no warning and without thinking, one of the young teens collided with Booth, knocking him from his feet and bowling him down the hill. Hawking turned around and smiled as he ran around the fountain, but when he did so Tony came from his left and crash-tackled him around the waist—straight into the fountain. Water splashed everywhere as the two grown men fell into less than a foot of the liquid.

Gibbs had to laugh as he pulled Hawking out of the water by his hair and threw him on the ground, cuffing his wrists behind his back not long after.

"Nice one, boss," Tony commented as he stood up and shook the excess water from his suit before stepping out of the water feature. "That was so The Matrix."

Gibbs' smile turned to a groan as he felt the urge to slap the back of Tony's head for the movie reference, but Ethan, who'd just arrived with Brennan and Ziva, warmly said to him. "This fountain was used in The Matrix."

Ziva and Brennan, meanwhile, were stifling giggles as they stared at their respective partners, one drenched head to toe and the other with torn pants and a bleeding knee, and exchanged glances with each other.

"This is not funny," Booth told them forcefully.

"No, I think it is," Brennan answered with a smile and a laugh.

"Where to?" Gibbs asked Samantha, keeping his right hand on Hawking's right arm and his left hand on the man's left shoulder.

"Your consulate is just there," Samantha answered with a nod in the general direction of one of the street's very large and very old buildings. "Or we could just head back to HQ."

"Your office," Gibbs told her. "So DiNozzo and Booth can change."

---

Ziva found her partner sitting on the grass outside of the AFP's Sydney office. He'd changed into a black suit and tie, but his hair was still damp. She smiled as she silently crept up behind him and sat down.

"Hey," Tony said solemnly when he realised that Ziva had sat down next to him. He didn't even turn his head.

"Gibbs is letting Commander Hawking cook in interrogation for a while," Ziva told him.

"Stew."

"Yes... stew," Ziva agreed. They were silent for a few moments, merely taking in the sounds of the soft wind and the birds in the winter air. "Tell me about the New World Order."

"There's nothing to tell. It was a long time ago." That was his story and he was sticking to it. For as long as he possibly could; that is, without Ziva pummelling it out of him.

"Please do not lie to me, Tony," she told him exasperatedly. "I know."

"I'm not lying to you, Ziva. It's not important."

"You are doing it again, Tony!" She shuffled around and sat cross-legged in front of him. "You cannot say that it is not pertinent to this case. And if you will not tell Gibbs, then I will."

Tony sighed. "No, you won't."

"Yes, I will."

"Now who's lying?"

"Tell me about it then. Even if it is not important." When Tony didn't say anything, she pressed him harder. "I am your partner. Partners trust each other and I trusted you with information from my past." He remained silent still. "You went to the same school as Petty Officer Cole. Is that where this started?"

She didn't actually expect him to answer. She thought he would continue with the silent treatment, but he did not. He did answer. And he did tell her the truth.

"Yes. Recruiters preyed on boys like me. Disjointed from our parents, especially wealthy and conservative fathers; boys that wanted nothing more than to rebel. They would convince us of an alternate reality. It was brainwashing really."

"But you left the Order?"

"I was never really a part of it. At the end of my senior year, when I was to be initiated, I, well... rebelled against them. Went to Ohio State and not Harvard Law like they had suggested. My father probably would have been happy if I'd gone to Harvard."

"Who are they, Tony?"

"There were two recruiters at Xavier. My Physical Education teacher was one. It was very clever actually. Using a religious Jesuit school to recruit boys into a secret society."

"Names?"

"So you can tell Gibbs?" Tony ejected.

Ziva stared back at him and then shook her head. "So _you_ can tell Gibbs. And you have to, Tony." She grabbed his arm, somewhat roughly, and he stared back into her dark eyes. "I know how hard it is to do this. They moulded you for years into the man they wanted, but you turned your back on them once before. You can do it again. They may have had a young sailor killed, Tony!"

"I know that, Ziva!" he answered, throwing his arms up in anguish. He shuffled away from her, as though her suggestion to him was so morally repugnant and outrageous that he couldn't believe she would offend him so. But deep down, he knew she was right and he was being the unreasonable one. _She didn't go through what you did,_ Tony reminded himself. The tiny voice inside his head was constantly repeating that they saved him, gave him a future to focus on. "I know that they may have killed Petty Officer Cole. God knows what else they have planned now."

"What are they planning, Tony?"

"A new world order," he answered simply, his eyes almost glazed. He couldn't give her any more information, he just couldn't. Name, rank and serial number—that was all she got out of him. And it didn't help when Gibbs' rude interruption came.

"When you two are done getting a tan, go with this detective and interview Hawking's CO's," he barked from the footpath five feet away. There was a young blonde standing tall behind him, seemingly unintimidated by their boss, which Ziva had to admit was a first, but Tony seemed not to take notice of her—even when the woman stepped forward and addressed them.

"Agent DiNozzo, Officer David, if you will follow me," she asked of them.

Ziva sighed and stood first. She looked down at her partner, who hadn't moved. "Tony, we have work to do." Still, no movement. "Tony, we have work to do," she told him a little louder. This snapped him out of his head space and back into action. He finally did notice the attractive blonde. "And who might you be?" he asked rather flirtatiously. Ziva scowled under her breath.

"Detective Sarah Baker," she replied. "We should go now. Most of Commander Hawking's CO's have gone home, but I spoke to a Captain Rossi in his direct chain of command and he is waiting for us at Kuttabul."

"Alright, let's go then," Tony announced and they followed the woman to her black sedan. "What are Booth and Brennan up to?"

"I believe that Detective Galindez is driving them to Hawking's apartment," she replied, not even bothering to return Tony's wandering glances and elevator eyes.

---

"He lives simply," Brennan commented as she entered his apartment first. Booth and Ethan followed closely behind. They looked from the empty walls with a few faceless paintings to the flat screen TV and extensive DVD collection of movies that looked like they'd never been watched. Everything still looked brand new. Even as they entered the kitchen, they got the sense that he rarely cooked in it. His sole bedroom was just as empty and neat as the rest of his place. The bed was made to bounce a coin off; his array of clothes, everything from middle-class priced suits to casual jeans and t-shirts, were folded or hung neatly in the large walk-in wardrobe, and the ensuite bathroom was spotless. Not even a hair on the brush for DNA.

"This place looks like a crash pad," Booth remarked as he looked through the wardrobe.

"I agree," Ethan said. "Looks like my place when I was doing deep cover in Melbourne. There's nothing here to give away who he actually is. Nothing about his family or himself."

"I found a laptop," Booth called out. "It was underneath a loose floorboard in the wardrobe." He pulled it out and stood up, then blew the dust off the surface.

"I found something else," Brennan called out from the other side of the bedroom rather urgently.

"What?" Booth's voice returned.

"Explosive device and it's rigged to blow," she answered unsurely.

"When?!"

"Now," came the same uncertain voice. Ethan ran out of the apartment first, and Booth was directly behind him, pulling Brennan with one arm and holding the laptop, their sole piece of evidence, firmly under the other. They bolted down the hallway and dropped to the ground as the explosion ripped through the apartment. Booth's body was shielding both the laptop and Brennan.

"Booth, you can get off me now," she told him loudly, pushing up on his chest. "You're very heavy."

"Are you okay, Bones?" he asked anxiously.

"What?!" she yelled back. She'd seen his lips move but didn't quite hear him. "I'm fine," she answered finally as the buzzing went away a little. She looked around. "Ethan?"

The other man got his feet and answered her. "I'm fine, too, but what the hell was that?"

Nobody answered him. Shock still rang through the air, and nothing more than buzzing rang through their ears. "I need to get my tympanic membrane checked," Bones commented in the same very loud voice through the silence. There were people screaming on the street and running out of the building. Ethan was calling the explosion in.

"Yeah, well, just be happy to be alive," Booth muttered in Bones' direction.

"What?!" she shot at him again.

"Never mind," he said, rather loudly, but she didn't hear.

"Booth! I can't hear you! Speak up!" she ejected angrily.

"You might wanna call for EMT's too," Booth yelled out to Ethan.

"Yeah, I'll call for an ambulance," Ethan returned.

"And I'll call Gibbs," Booth muttered as he pulled out his phone, still standing very close to Brennan.

---

"So Commander Hawking's been to Italy, Britain, the US, the Gulf, the Solomons and East Timor," Tony commented from the back seat as he, Ziva and Detective Baker drove back to the AFP office in South Sydney. "This doesn't sound so go-"

Ziva cut his rant short as she hung up her phone. "Hawking's apartment blew. Booth, Brennan and Galindez are okay."

"Blew as in blew up?!" Baker ejected, slamming the brakes on hard and swerving around a stopped car.

"Next time, I'm driving," Tony muttered.

"This is Australia, Agent DiNozzo," Baker told him. "Have you ever driven on the left side before?"

"Go back to the explosion," Tony smirked.

"I don't know anything else, but Booth thinks it was set off remotely," Ziva told him.

"Well, it wasn't Hawking, he's been in interrogation for the past two hours," Baker added.

"Do you know who?" Ziva spoke to Tony.

He looked up at her and didn't answer right away. Baker looked at him as well, taking her eyes off the road as they waited at a red light. Finally, Tony answered the question, slowly and unsurely. "What makes you think that I do?"

And once again, Ziva knew that he was lying.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I have nothing else to say but please review. Out of the four season finales I've watched over the past fortnight, four of them have peeved me off (yes, that's all of them). So I'm not talking anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes: I just remembered that I planned to update this tonight. So here's your update. And please do review if you're reading. Spread the love....

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

The crime scene was abuzz with activity that the Australian forensic team from the AFP and the local NSW police officers rarely saw in their own country. They had confirmed that the military grade plastic explosive, Semtex, was used after finding traces of RDX and PETN. They had also found traces of a cell phone remote detonator. They'd known by the size of the blast that only a small amount of the explosive was used, and had set about working on how the perpetrator may have had access to such a powerful, volatile material.

"I'd say that our guys were very lucky," Samantha commented to Gibbs as they watched the debris be cleared away.

Gibbs said nothing in reply, but Samantha thought she was starting to read him—she knew that he was happy about it too. It was almost 2100h and most people were exhausted, but Gibbs had insisted on checking out the scene that night.

"Everything is clear in here, sir," one of the bomb techs announced to Gibbs in an uncertain manner. "Are you sure that you don't want to wait until morning?"

"We need to send this evidence to the Jeffersonian tonight," came a voice from behind them.

"Dr Brennan, I thought that you were at the hospital?" Gibbs questioned insincerely.

"I'm fine, but even overnight express will take a day to reach the lab," Brennan told him.

"The evidence is staying here," Samantha spoke up. "Australian crime, Australian crime scene and Australian forensic experts. I have had them send the laptop to your people in Washington and that is all. Are you saying you don't trust us to do the job, Dr Brennan?"

"I'm not saying that..." she began her reply, slightly taken aback by the word 'no.'

"I'm glad."

"You're sure about the Semtex?" Brennan pursued further. "I have seen your experts make mistakes like this before."

"I was in Bali too," Samantha told her. "Yes, I read up on you. All of you. And the difference here is that I'm running this crime scene." She turned to Gibbs and spoke to him in the same authoritative manner. "Your people need sleep. We will pick this up in the morning." And she walked out of what was left of the apartment without another word.

"You were in Bali?" Booth asked from behind Brennan.

"I was called in with the FBI to identify bodies," Brennan replied. She looked to Gibbs then, as if waiting for permission to do something. And she almost couldn't figure out why.

"Go back to the hotel," Gibbs told them. "DiNozzo, David, you too."

The two NCIS agents looked up from the rubble with some surprise and then finished bagging the evidence they'd collected and walked out. Ethan ran to catch up with them.

"Either of you tired?" he asked, his head bobbing in between the close bodies. "Sarah and I were gonna head out for some drinks and wondered if you wanted to join."

"I'm definitely not tired," Ziva put in.

"Me neither, I can't sleep," Tony added with a slick smile.

"Constable Kerrick," spoke Ethan, addressing the young uniformed officer that he walked up beside him. "Drive Agent Booth and Dr Brennan back to their hotel. These two are coming with me?"

"You sure you don't wanna come?" Tony called out to Booth.

"Nuh, I'm beat," the other agent replied. "And I don't think that anymore loud noise will be necessarily good for Bones."

"What?!" she shouted at him over the noise of a loud car stereo that just blared past them on the street.

"I rest my case," Booth muttered to the others. "Nothin', Bones. We're going back to the hotel."

They bid each other goodnight and went their separate ways—Booth and Brennan with the young police officer to the Rydges World Square hotel and Tony and Ziva with Ethan and Baker in their silver Ford sedan in the direction of the city.

"I know a nice bar on King Street Wharf that's got a great vibe to it," Ethan told them as they drove down George Street in the heart of the city. Ten minutes later, they were parking in a police vehicles spot—Ethan mentioned that he always used those to his advantage—and making their way along the water to the bay side club, Cargo Bar. It was only nine-thirty and the place was packed with inner city workers off the clock. Tony had no reason to feel out of place in his work clothes—more than half the bar were wearing suits.

Ethan ordered the first round of drinks for everyone. Well, for the four of them. They swapped stories from across the globe as they drank their beers, Mojitos or Cosmopolitans. Tony gladly brought up his attack by a vicious iguana in Cuba after having slightly too many drinks and then dragged Ziva on to the dance floor. Not that she minded very much—she was having fun to.

Meanwhile, back at AFP headquarters, Gibbs was watching Commander Hawking from the observation room. It was not long until Samantha joined him.

"I plan to wait until morning to interrogate him," Samantha told him without announcing herself. "Let him sweat a little longer."

Gibbs nodded his head, but didn't move otherwise.

"What happened tonight at the apartment—you have to understand that I am not a pushover, Agent Gibbs. I do not take kindly to being told how to police my own backyard. Even from you Americans."

"You mean especially from us Americans."

"Don't twist my words, Gibbs," she warned dangerously. Bravely, she stepped up right behind him and didn't move, instead whispering in his ear. "I let you in on this because I believe that we should be working together. And working together does _not_ mean working for you."

"This is my case, Detective Harris," he shot back and stepped away from her.

"The dead Petty Officer, yes, but everything else that has happened since you arrived is mine. Hawking is a citizen of _my_ country. His apartment is under _my_ jurisdiction. The missing cash is in _Australian_ dollars."

"Is it missing?"

"No, we're tracking it. Nothing so far."

Gibbs smiled. He'd managed to get her to give up something about the case without meaning to while she was arguing with him. Samantha smiled too when she realised. "Well, played, Agent Gibbs."

"So, we'll interrogate him in the morning."

"Yes we will," Samantha replied. "I'm going home. I suggest that you go to your hotel. I'll have an officer drive you."

She didn't wait for an answer, but left him standing there, alone, in the observation room.

---

The suite was much nicer than what they'd had in Bolivia. Brennan had immediately settled on the room directly adjacent to Booth's and they were currently sitting on his bed watching an American procedural drama of some sort but not really paying attention to it. Too engrossed in sharing the banana split they'd ordered from room service, Brennan and Booth were far more interested in each other's company than CSI: Miami anyway. Until the writers slipped up, that is.

"I'm not sure that that's scientifically accurate, Booth," Brennan piped up, pointing at the flat screen TV that was mounted on the deep brown feature wall.

"What?"

"The blood spray pattern," Brennan explained.

"So what, Bones? It's a TV show," Booth told her. "I just love the sunglasses." And with that he stuck his spoon into the piece of dark chocolate mud cake that they'd also ordered. "Mm, you need to try this," he urged after taking a bite. Scooping up another mouthful, he mimicked aeroplanes in Brennan's direction. And she was all too happy to comply.

"You're right, this is good," she stuttered out with her mouth full.

"What do you think is going on with Tony and Ziva?" Booth piped up.

"In Bolivia?"

"No, here in Australia. They seemed a little tense with each other after we arrested Hawking. And again at the crime scene tonight."

"Lover's spit," Brennan suggested.

"Spat," Booth automatically corrected.

"Spit, spat, it was an argument, then," Brennan ejected with a frustrated voice.

"Really?"

"I don't know, Booth. I'm not a mind reader. Maybe you should ask Sweets. You seem to think that he can read minds."

"Sweets can't read minds. And if he was here, he probably wouldn't know what was going on anyway."

"Why not? He always seems to know when something's up with us."

"When he thinks something's up with us," Booth corrected smarmily.

"Well, by the way you're raising your voice, I'd say that he'd think something was up with us," Bones put in.

"Oh, so now you can hear when I raise my voice?!"

"I'm feeling much better. You only had to ask that."

"Well, I'm glad," Booth shot forward, more aggressively than he'd originally intended to be.

"Well, I'm glad that you're glad," Bones expelled, mimicking his hostile tone.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"This cake is really good." And with that, the laughter came.

---

At 0000h, the club was really starting to pick up. Tony had had quite a bit more than Ziva to drink, but they had both spent the past hour on the dance floor. Ethan was taking note of just how close they were to each other.

"Do you think they're more than just partners?" his blonde companion asked. She managed to narrowly escape a group of guys standing by the bar as she went to get a bottle of water. Earlier that night, in fact, the same group had approached Baker and Ziva, but Ethan's badge had quickly shooed them away.

"Probably," Ethan muttered, still staring at the NCIS agents' close proximity. Ziva had her arms around Tony's neck and Tony had his hands on her hips. They were casually swaying to the music, but were far more intent on being in each other's presence to care what was played. Laughing slightly, Ethan continued, "But with a boss like that, I can understand them not publicising anything. I swear, I don't think I could work for the man full time. Did you see him today with Sam?"

"Yeah, it was amusing," Baker agreed with a smile. "You know, I could go for some ice-cream."

"It's the middle of winter, Baker, are you serious?" Ethan spat out.

"Deadly."

"Deadly what?" Ziva and Tony had returned from the dance floor, exhausted and spent.

"I would kill for some ice-cream," Baker repeated with more enthusiasm.

Ziva, however and as usual, missed it. "You would not get close enough to me."

Ethan and Tony ignored Baker's confused look and pushed the two women out of the bar's exit and towards the IMAX theatre in Sydney's Darling Harbour, which was only a few hundred metres away. Baker was walking fast in the winter's cold wind and Ethan ran to keep up with her, shouting something like the ice-cream wasn't going anywhere. He finally caught up with her.

"I'm not rushing to get ice-cream," Baker told him when he finally arrived next to her.

"Then why are you walking so _freaking_ fast?!" he spurt out in a strained, panting voice.

"Someone hasn't been keeping up with his training schedule. And four's a crowd."

Ethan looked behind and saw what she meant. He smiled inwardly, voicing nothing.

"And I'm a little eager to break my diet for some ice-cream," Baker added with a mischievous smile.

Tony and Ziva, meanwhile, were walking about sixty metres behind them, enjoying the fresh Sydney waterside air and exciting atmosphere. And Tony was not quite walking in a straight line.

"It is nice here," Ziva commented awkwardly. Well, conversation was a little strained with nothing but the case and Tony's involvement in it to talk about. "You know, I have never been to Australia before."

"No reason to come here, ay?" Tony asked rhetorically with a smile.

"Not really, no," Ziva answered. They were silent for a little longer and Tony almost stumbled over a loose paver. Ziva grabbed his forearm to hold him upright. She let her hand slink down to his when he was fine. "Look, Tony, about earlier..." she began unsurely, still holding his hand. In fact, he had no intention of letting it go. "I'm sorry about earlier today. Well, I guess it would be yesterday now, but that is not my point. My point is that I'm sorry and you are right. I will not tell Gibbs, even though I think you should. And you really should, Tony."

"I know," he muttered sombrely. He grasped her hand a little tighter. Had they been less intoxicated and had it been a night in their comfort zone of Washington DC, they would not be so close, but it was a foreign city and they were more than slightly inebriated.

"Do you guys want some ice-cream?" Ethan called out to them from the New Zealand ice-cream store that was still open, despite the lateness of the hour.

"Nuh, cold enough here thanks," Tony called back.

"Me too," Ziva muttered with a shiver.

And Tony, ever the chauvinist, removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

Ziva emitted a slight giggle, a sound that Tony rarely heard. "This is not necessary, Tony." She went to remove the jacket but Tony grasped her shoulders, holding it down.

"Hey, Ethan," he called out to the Australian. "Where's the hotel from here?"

"About a ten minute walk," Baker answered back for him.

"Wait! You're not walking!" Ethan ejected with a surprised tone.

"Let them walk," Baker told him sternly, absently smacking his right forearm. Then she rose her voice to call out to the NCIS agents. "Keep going down Pier Street." She pointed it out to them. "Then follow it when it turns into Goulburn Street and take a left at Pitt Street."

"You get all that, Sweetcheeks?" Tony asked as he smiled to his partner.

"Naturally," she replied in her signature, seductive tone.

"We'll see you in the morning," Tony called back to Ethan and Baker and then waved goodbye. With an arm gripped around Ziva's shoulders, he led her in the direction that Baker had pointed them. "I spoke to Booth earlier and our accommodation here is sweet. The Aussies really went all out for us."

"That was nice of them," Ziva commented. Seemingly and accidentally, they'd fallen back into a rhythm of awkward conversation, so she saw little choice but to revert to what they had been talking about earlier. "Tell me about your time at Xavier School?" He seemed hesitant, so she added, "I promise to you that I will not tell Gibbs. But you know that you can tell me anything, Tony."

"I do," he admitted, letting his arm now softly drape around her waist.

"And?"

"Alright, what do you want to know?"

"How did they choose you and why did you leave?"

Tony sighed a little then looked at his partner. She had the look of unwavering support and affection and he understood that. Taking another breath in, he began to tell his tale. "When I was a sophomore, I started spending more and more time doing sports. Every sport I could think of from baseball to ice hockey. I didn't really like my classes too much. The whole place was starting to feel like an orphanage—and I felt like an orphan—and my gym teacher coached most of the sports. I'm not really sure how it happened, but we spent so much time together, and all the while he was going Marxist all over society's ass."

"Your gym teacher was a Marxist?" Ziva was actually a little surprised to hear a comparison of life that didn't relate to a movie scene.

"More of a mix between Karl Marx and Ayn Rand," Tony clarified.

"I do not know who the latter is."

"It's not important," Tony continued. "What is important is that he spent my entire sophomore year convincing me to rebel against the conforming, dogmatic nature of our society so that together we could build a new world until I soon became concerned with little else. I know that he convinced other boys of the same thing while I was there. One of my friends, Tyler Heinrich, was one of them. He's probably still one of them, but I was the Master's favourite."

"The Master?"

"We grew to call him that after a while."

Ziva nodded and didn't bother to ask for the name. She knew that he would shut down the moment it became an interrogation.

"My junior and senior years were spent learning everything about the Knights. Their history, their methods and, most importantly, their goals."

"To establish a New World Order? What is that, Tony?"

"A cryptocracy. A totalitarian world government where the leaders are a complete secret. Star Wars Episode III, Part Deux."

Ziva looked at him strangely. He knew the confused look and he pressed on.

"They'd thought they'd get it after the establishment of the League of Nations and international law, and later on, the United Nations. But no, they're still waiting, and I think that they'll go to more extreme measures to get what they want."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Ziva. I have actually thought about before, but I decided that it wasn't my problem anymore."

"How about now?"

"I know, I know. But I haven't been a member for eighteen years. What do you expect me to know? I wasn't even a member then. I left, remember."

"You still haven't told me how?" Ziva reminded him. They'd now arrived at the hotel and were walking through the exquisite lobby. Perhaps exquisite didn't quite cut it. It was the perfect example of postmodern, contemporary interior design from the lounge to the reception desk. Ziva gave the receptionist their names and they collected their room keys.

"I worked out what they were planning to do," Tony muttered five minutes after she'd asked the question. They were standing alone in the elevator.

She looked up at him, but said nothing. Shivering slightly at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek, she dared to step closer and put her hands on his chest, beckoning him on.

"I think I know how they want to achieve a cryptocratic style of government. Or at least how they think that they will." He took a deep breath. Ziva realised that they'd be on their floor soon, so she stepped forward and pushed the emergency stop button. He looked at her gratefully and continued. "They will destroy the current great power on this planet and rebuild their new government from the ashes. That's what they told me a week before I was due to be knighted. I graduated the next day and left. I never saw or spoke to any of them again."

"Destroy the current great power? How?"

"I don't know, but I'm almost afraid to find out. It won't be sunshine and lollipops, I know that much."

Ziva nodded slowly and turned the elevator back on. They got off on their floor in silence and walked towards their adjacent rooms. There was a few feet separating their respective front doors and they stood in that space, waiting and in silence.

"I am glad that you told me, Tony," Ziva smiled. She brought her hand up nervously and touched his cheek. With a little more confidence, her palm moved around to cup it and her eyes bore deeply into his.

"I can trust you, Ziva," he whispered. "I trust you."

"I know that, Tony," she replied in the same soft voice. She smiled weakly and stepped just a little closer to him. Her hand dropped and joined her other one on his chest, grasping the jacket he'd just placed back on tightly. She looked up at him, seeing that he hadn't moved and smiled a little stronger.

"What are you thinking?" Tony whispered, his warm breath running over and caressing the lines of her face.

"That you want to kiss me," she replied in a soft and barely audible whisper.

He leaned forward automatically, but she moved her head away from his. Instead, he got her ear and whispered back, "I always want to kiss you." He pulled back slightly and gazed down on Ziva's beauty.

She shortened the gap between them, reaching up towards him. He closed his eyes, thinking that she was going to kiss him and he was going to enjoy it. But her lips missed his and gently stroked his cheek instead.

"_Laila tov_, Tony," she whispered to him and she pulled away. She placed her room card in the door and opened it.

"_Buonanotte_," Tony called out to her, slightly displaced and disjointed, before opening his room as well.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I gave you some Tiva... so please give me some reviews. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Breakfast the following morning was a noisy affair, but Gibbs was not present. The team had guessed that he'd gone to the AFP headquarters early, and their presumption turned out to be correct. Detective Samantha Harris had picked him up from the hotel at 0600h and they had arrived at their destination by 0620h. An early start to the morning was exactly what they needed in this case, and Gibbs knew that.

He was staring through the glass in the observation room of Interrogation 1, waiting, partly for Hawking to wake up, but mostly waiting for Samantha to return with his cup of dark espresso from the Starbucks in Circular Quay. Apparently, in Australia, the expansive chain of American coffee joints was not quite as popular as its counterpart, Gloria Jean's Coffees, whose international franchising rights were owned by an Australian company. Nevertheless, Samantha had made the twenty minute trip to buy him the coffee that he wanted after Tony had quoted rule number twenty-three to her the night before.

"I really hope that this is coffee you wanted, Agent Gibbs," Samantha remarked as she silently entered the observation room, hoping to spook him. She was midly annoyed, however, to see that she did not. "Because if it's not, I'm going to be really pissed," she added.

Gibbs grabbed it from her right hand with a smile and took a sip. He slanted his head to the side, gesturing that it was merely okay, but not great.

Samantha shook her head with mock outrage. "I see a smile is all I'm going to get. No chance of a thank you?"

Gibbs just smirked at her again.

"Are you going to interrogate him soon?" Samantha asked. "I think he's been cooking in there for long enough."

"Soon," he told her.

"Good, because I'm curious to learn what story he's concocted in the time he's spent in there," Samantha commented brusquely. "It'll probably be worthy of a bestseller."

Gibbs was still grinning when he took a step towards her, invading her personal space arrogantly. "You think that I should have done this yesterday."

"I think it was a mistake to leave it for this long."

"Just wait and see," Gibbs told her, still smiling.

"Ahem," came a cough from the doorway. Samantha shuffled away from the overbearing silver-haired mystery and looked at the interruption quickly. One of the young officers assigned to her team was standing beside a red-haired, rather formidable-looking, but definitely beautiful woman in a tight grey business suit with very high black stilettos.

"Madam Director," Gibbs remarked with a wider and more arrogant smirk and swagger. "Nice of you to join us. But I have to ask who's running the agency while you're gallivanting after lost agents on the other side of the world."

"Concern is mounting over this case, Jethro," Jenny told him. "I came to personally oversee it."

"Detective Samantha Harris," the ignored Australian put forward bluntly. She extended her hand to Jenny, which the other redhead took.

"Director Jenny Shepard."

Samantha had not been expecting that. She'd thought that Gibbs had been joking when he called her 'Madam Director.' She did appear to stifle at that title. "Is there anything that I can get you, Director Shepard?"

"No thank you, Detective," Jenny replied, still glaring at Gibbs.

"Okay, we'll get this interrogation underway then, Agent Gibbs?" Samantha suggested.

"Wait," he told her simply.

"For what?!"

And less than a second later, the door to the observation room burst open, bringing in a chatty crowd of one NCIS agent, one Mossad officer, one FBI agent, one forensic anthropologist and two AFP detectives. They stopped and stared at Jenny when they entered.

"This should be interesting," Tony whispered to Ziva, but right in the plain view of Gibbs. He was rewarded with a whack to the back of his head for his trouble. The Australians, Booth and Brennan were shocked by this, while the other shrugged it off as normal daily behaviour.

"Do you find that works for you, Agent Gibbs?" Brennan asked matter-of-factly.

"Apparently so," Gibbs replied, glaring at Tony.

"Can we get this interrogation underway soon, Agent Gibbs?" Jenny requested in an order-like fashion. "I did not fly ten thousand miles to see something I could've seen at home."

Gibbs didn't reply, but grabbed the case file from Ethan's hands and walked into the interrogation room, Samantha following behind. Since it was Australian jurisdiction and an Australian citizen, she was required to be present during the interrogation, even if she did not participate. She was anxious to see Gibbs' style of questioning and did not plan to make a comment. But that soon changed as they entered the room.

Gibbs slammed the door, waking Hawking up with a start. His brain seemed to be working quickly as Gibbs sat in front of him and began his interrogation.

"Do you know why you're here, Commander Hawking?"

"You have no authority to ask me those questions, yank," Hawking spat back aggressively. "You've kept me all night long in this room and now you're going to try your Gitmo interrogation techniques on me. I don't think so."

Gibbs smirked back at him. "You wanna tell me about the money drop yesterday? The man in the suit?"

Hawking glared back at him. "I want a lawyer."

Gibbs looked over at Samantha, who smiled. "Of course," she told him, then walked over to the surveillance camera and pulled out the cord.

"This is illegal," Hawking said anxiously.

"No it's not," Samantha replied. "In two days time, you may have your lawyer."

"What?!"

"That is the law, Commander Hawking. I can and will hold you for a period of seven days without charge under suspicion of having important information regarding a potential terrorist operation. Do you understand this? Yes or no?"

Hawking remained silent.

"I'm investigating the murder of a US Navy Petty Officer, Alexis Cole," Gibbs began. "He was in Bolivia a week after you, meeting with the same man as you did. Who was the man?"

"I didn't meet with any man in Bolivia," Hawking told him angrily.

"There is no sense in lying, Commander," Samantha told him. "We have witnesses placing you at the same restaurant as Petty Officer Cole and meeting that same man. You've done so on several occasions. Now we want his name."

"Charles Baxter," Hawking told him.

"His real name?" Gibbs asked. "Evan... If you could just tell us his surname, perhaps we will let you go sooner than you think."

"I don't think so," Hawking said with an arrogant look from Gibbs to Samantha. "I'm pleading the fifth," he told Gibbs then turned to the Australian. "I'm not saying anything without my lawyer."

Gibbs looked up at Samantha and shrugged.

She chuckled and bent over close to Hawking, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the table in front of him. "You have this discussion with us or you can have this discussion with ASIO. The choice is yours." She stood back and looked at him shrewdly. "We'll give you some time to think about it."

Gibbs nodded to her and they left the room together.

"I hope this plan works," Samantha muttered on the way out.

"It will," Gibbs told her and then turned to his team. "Booth, Brennan, check in with McGee. I want that Cryptex open and I want it open yesterday." They nodded and left the observation room quickly. "DiNozzo, David," Gibbs continued. "Follow the money trail."

They left the room with Ethan and Baker quickly.

"You let the man with the money go, Tony tells me?" Jenny remarked as soon as she, Gibbs and Samantha were the only ones left in the room.

"Following it," Gibbs told him. "I need to know more about these Knights before we go back in there."

"I'll get DiNozzo, David, Galindez and Baker to see what they can find out," Samantha said, and then left, grateful for the opportunity. The air in the observation room was suffocating and thick with tension. Obviously, she had realised from meeting the Director earlier, there was or had been something going on between them.

"What are you really doing here, Jen?" Gibbs asked as soon as Samantha had left.

"I told you, Jethro."

He glared at her. "And NCIS?"

"Leon Vance can man the fort for a few days," Jenny told him.

"I thought that the Deputy Director for Operations was spending time in San Diego," Gibbs commented.

Jenny scowled at him, visibly annoyed. "Like I said, Jethro, for a few days. Now I want a complete run down of this case."

"Of course, Director," Gibbs replied, leading her out of the observation room and through the precinct floor of the AFP headquarters to the conference room that they'd set up in. Booth and Brennan were heading into the room at the same time, a cell phone held out in front of the FBI agent like it contained swine flu.

"I got Abby on the phone and she wants to talk to all of us," Booth told everybody in the room. They gathered around the table and Booth placed the phone in its centre.

"We've had no luck opening the Cryptex, Gibbs," Abby shouted over the phone, and it sounded like her end was on speaker too. "We've tried everything that we can think of, but we can't risk bursting the vial with whatever corrosive material they've used. Then we'll lose the message. Can you see if you can get a five-letter word out of your suspect?"

"Not likely, Abs," Gibbs told her, frustrated. "Can't you crack the code?"

"That's like 11,881,376 possibilities, Gibbs!" Abby cried. "You give me a five-letter word?"

"How about vague or subtle or how about brand, because that's what's going to happen to you if you don't figure it out!" Gibbs yelled in the direction of the phone.

Abby was silent for a few moments, then came her reply. "None of those work, Gibbs."

He growled angrily.

"Try globe," Ziva suggested.

"Nothing." It was McGee that answered this time.

"World?" Booth put forward.

"Bupkis," Abby said.

"Mason," Tony mumbled from the back of the room.

"What was that?" Abby asked.

"He said to try Mason," Booth told her.

Again, there was complete silence for about twenty seconds, before, "It worked. Tony, how did you guess that?!"

"Never mind that for now," Tony said exasperatedly as he stepped forward. "What does it say?"

"It's in German," Abby replied. "I'll have to get it translated."

"As soon as you do, I wanna know," Gibbs told her and then hung up. He was still glaring at Tony suspiciously and nobody else had dared to say anything. Ziva was shrinking to the back of the room.

"That was a good guess, DiNozzo," Gibbs commented.

"An educated guess, Boss," Tony answered him nervously. He was almost stuttering, but he recognised that it was time to reveal the truth. "There's something that I've been meaning to tell you about this case."

"Well, yeah, DiNozzo, I think there is."

"Not here."

Everyone's gaze turned in Tony's direction.

"I can't risk being overheard," Tony clarified. He turned to Ethan, who was closest to him. "Is there anywhere else we can go?"

"An early lunch?" Ethan suggested. "And I know just the place."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **I know that I haven't updated in three weeks and this chapter was rather short, but I had trouble getting back into the swing of it after I started Earth. But hopefully, I've moved on from it. Thanks to everyone who has decided to read this story and review it.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Eating fish and chips at Tumbalong Park in Darling Harbour, the park which Tony and Ziva had crossed through the previous night, was not exactly what Gibbs had in mind when Tony had asked them to take the discussion out of the office. He'd observed the laid back attitude of the Aussies over the past twenty-four hours, but he'd not expected that they'd actually conduct business while sitting on a picnic blanket.

"Why are we here?" Gibbs ejected as soon as Samantha and Ethan came back with their food.

"You wanted to talk out of the office," Samantha pointed out. "We're out of the office. It looks like we've gone to lunch."

"We have gone to lunch," Gibbs fired back. "A restaurant would have been nicer, though."

"Well, I am sorry, Agent Gibbs. I truly am, but we blew our budget paying for your rooms at the Rydges World Square, so you're just going to have to deal."

"I think it's rather nice here," Jenny put in matter-of-factly, but Gibbs knew her tone better. It was always the voice she used when she wanted to end an argument, usually with him.

"Anyway, I believe that Agent DiNozzo has the floor," Samantha put in as she helped herself to a plate of hot chips.

"Ah, can I have please have some fries before we start?" he said unsurely.

"Sure, Tony, you can have the _chips_," Ethan said with emphasis on the last word.

"Fries," Tony corrected.

But Ethan wasn't going to let it go. "Chips."

The juvenile banter continued.

"Fries."

"Chips."

"Fries."

"Chips."

Until, finally, Jenny stepped in authoritatively. "That's enough."

"If these are chips, then what do you call those potato-based slices that you buy in packets?" Tony questioned.

"Chips," Ethan answered, enjoying the confused look on Tony's face.

"Well then how do you know which ones you're buying?"

"Geez, Tony, if your temperature receptors can't pick that up or your tongue has trouble discerning the texture of processed goods, then I feel sorry for you," Ethan mocked with a victorious grin.

"Back to your story, Agent DiNozzo," Jenny shouted over the two bickering schoolchildren that were sitting beside each other. "And leave nothing out."

"Okay," Tony said, drawing in a breath. "I'd like to make it known that I didn't know Petty Officer Cole or Commander Hawking. I've never met them. But I do know the Knights of the New World Order."

"How?" Gibbs asked, as if he was interrogating his senior field agent.

"At school," Tony answered earnestly and dutifully. "The boarding school I attended was the same one that Cole did."

"Xavier?"

Tony nodded. "My sports coach recruited me into the society in my sophomore year. It happened gradually... then all of a sudden." Tony's expression was a mixture of remembrance and confusion, and, in this vulnerable looking state, Ziva felt the strong urge to reach her hand out and hold his. But she fought back against it.

"You're a member of this secret society?" Jenny asked. "The Knights of the New World Order?"

"No," Tony responded truthfully. "I was set to be initiated, well, knighted, into the group a week after I graduated from school. My life was all set up for me. I was going to Harvard Law, something about which my father was proud, but a day before graduation, I changed my mind. Dropped out of Harvard and went to Ohio State instead. I never heard from them after that. Until a few days ago."

"A few days ago?" Gibbs asked.

Tony sighed again. "My roommate at school was recruited and he stuck with them, as far as I know. Once you're in, you're in, and it's very hard to leave. I only managed it because I couldn't be initiated until my eighteenth birthday, which was the week after graduation. Anyway, my roommate, Tyler Heinrich, sent me a package on Monday."

"What was inside?" Jenny asked.

"I dunno," Tony replied, just remembering what he did with the package. He hadn't really given it serious thought since they caught on to the case. "We had the call out to the Naval Academy and I never got to open it. I left it under my desk."

Gibbs stood up immediately and whipped out his cell phone. "McGee," he shouted into the receiver as soon as the younger agent picked up. "Go back to NCIS and get the package from under DiNozzo's desk. Call me back when you have it." And he hung up the phone before McGee could get a word in. Walking behind Tony, he whacked the younger man on the underside of the head, something that Tony had been expecting and actually desired. He needed someone to snap him out of his headspace.

"Next time you're this involved in a case, I expect to know as soon as you know," Gibbs chastised.

"Got it, boss," Tony replied sheepishly. Then he remembered something that would brighten his boss' day. "Hey, boss, I could probably crack that code from the scroll that was in the Cryptex when Abby's done with the translation."

"How do you know that it's in code?" Jenny asked.

"Seriously? They're a secret society and like all the others, everything is written in code. I spent three years of my life studying cryptology and puzzles."

"Is that how you knew what the Cryptex's keyword would be?" Ziva asked.

"It was really more of a guess," Tony answered modestly. "Or an educated guess. I wasn't sure that was the answer but it was possible. Early Knights were often Masons as well. New World Order teachings and Masonic teachings corresponded and complemented each other, but the Knights were always far more secretive. That said, if the Cryptex could be opened by any Knight, then the keyword would have had to have been known by all."

"So why couldn't we discuss this back at the AFP building, Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny asked with a raised eyebrow.

Tony looked down and was silent for a moment. "I knew that you would ask this, but it's probably the most important information that I'll reveal to you."

"More important than you being one of them?" Gibbs questioned, berating him.

"I'm not one of them," Tony maintained. "But yeah, it is more important. I may know what they're up to."

"Are you trying to build suspense?" Ethan ejected after Tony was silent for a few moments.

Tony gave him a small smile and continued. "They want to control every power and every government on this planet. And they may be very close to achieving that goal. They have probably infiltrated the main super powers of the world, especially our own government, to a greater degree than the Illuminati."

"This is starting to sound a lot like something Hodgins would say," Brennan put in, speaking for the first time. Booth, who was sitting next to her, was scoffing down his second burger, but listening intently. He'd skipped breakfast, so he was forgiven for eating rather than engaging in the discussion.

"What do you mean 'infiltrated everything'?" Jenny ejected in disbelief. "These people are everywhere at any time and we know nothing about them! How could you not reveal this years ago?!"

"I'm sorry," Tony said, genuinely looking it. "It was a part of my life that I chose to turn my back on and that I didn't want to bring up again."

"Alright," Samantha said, stepping in. "We can't do anything about the past, but Tony, we will need your help to fix the future."

Ziva smiled at her. One of the things that she really liked about the Australian was her ability to see what each person needed and then become that for them. Right now, Tony needed understanding.

"How do you propose we do that?" Gibbs expelled, cutting across the family moment.

"How are they going to "take over" the world, anyway?" Jenny asked, her question directed at Tony.

"An event that'll reshape history and change the way the world operates, which will allow them to assume cryptocratic control," Tony explained. "But that's all I know."

"Cryptocratic?" Booth asked. He had finished wiping his face after his last burger and was ready to get involved in the conversation.

"A totalitarian style of governing where the citizens do not actually know their leaders," Brennan clarified for him, and for the others that were shooting Tony looks of confusion.

"And this major event will be...?" Jenny led with. "Like 9/11?"

"Perhaps," Tony replied. "They will probably have strong links, then, with Al Qaeda, Hezbollah militants, Abu Sayyaf and Jemaah Islamiyah if that was their intention. They would need someone to pin blame on afterwards."

"Well, this keeps getting better," Jenny murmured, voicing her thoughts unintentionally. "First we were looking for a murderer, now we're searching for a worldwide, highly secretive and highly organised, sleeper cell."

The others nodded, slowly grasping the enormity of this change in their case. It was, suddenly, very real and very serious.

"If that's the case," Samantha proposed. "Then who can we trust? We will need to inform many countries of this threat, but we can't let out what we know or else compromising their plan may lead to its acceleration before we even know what it is or how to stop it."

"Exactly," Jenny agreed.

And at that point, all of a sudden and without warning, a cell phone tone interrupted them. Ethan sheepishly pulled away from the group. "Galindez... Right, are you sure?... One hundred percent certain?... Great. This is good news. Thanks, mate." And he hung up the phone and turned back to the group. "We got a hit on the money."

"Where?" Samantha asked urgently.

"Singapore."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I know, I'm getting lazy on updating this story. It will be finished. I'm about halfway now. They're off to Singapore. I'd say about another chapter and a bit in Australia, then they're off to the next country. Please review.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

There was a race back to the AFP Headquarters building and up to the floor their assigned conference room was on. The tech that had been tracking the funds was waiting for them, his findings already displayed up on the plasma screen.

"What have you got, Hassan?" Samantha asked immediately.

"Tracked about a third of the money to a deal at the Chinatown Currency Exchange in central Singapore," Hassan replied, bringing up the location on the map.

"How much is a third?" Jenny asked pertinently.

"Two hundred and forty thousand Australian dollars," Hassan replied. "One hundred and ninety-three thousand, nine hundred and sixty-eight American dollars."

"He got through customs with that much cash?" Gibbs spat out. "How?"

"Lead casing a portion of his luggage, perhaps," Ziva answered, even though the question was directed at the Australian Federal Police tech. "Any number of ways, Gibbs. He may have been body-packing some of it."

"Do we have an ID on the he?" Gibbs asked, this time not directing his question at anyone in particular.

"With that expansive amount of cash, it's required," Hassan replied. "Julian Farrow. British passport."

"Booth, check out this Farrow character," Gibbs ordered. "Compare him to the visual we've got on the collector from Martin Place yesterday. When did this happen?"

"Three hours ago," Hassan replied. "It is hard to track so much money all over the world. This was the soonest we could trace it."

"It looks like we're going to Singapore. David, call your contacts. DiNozzo, flights. Brennan," he paused for a second, unsure of what to tell her to do, "go help your partner."

"Do you have contacts in Singapore?" Jenny asked Ziva.

"I'm sure that my contacts have contacts," Ziva replied with a smile, and then ducked out of the room to make a phone call.

"Right, Julian Marcus Farrow, British citizen from Nottingham, born 16th June 1973," Hassan announced, pulling the man's passport photo up on the plasma screen while Brennan and Booth abandoned their search and paid attention to what he'd learnt. "Not the same guy that received the money yesterday. Haven't got an ID on him yet. He's probably still in the country. Farrow flew out of Sydney last night and landed in Singapore this morning. Checked into the Shangri-La and checked out an hour ago. Got nothing else on him at the moment."

"Keep on it," Gibbs told him and Hassan nodded.

Ziva came back into the room with a content smile on her face. "I spoke to Superintendent Royan Chen of the Criminal Investigation Division. He found at least one hundred thousand Australian dollars this morning in a warehouse in downtown Singapore alone with the bodies of three women and a man that matches the description of the man that picked up the money yesterday."

"He must've slipped past customs," Samantha muttered, then turned to Hassan. "I want a list of everyone that was on Farrow's flight to Singapore last night."

"Superintendent Chen is expecting us," Ziva added, directing her comment at Gibbs.

"Got us seats on a flight to Singapore leaving Sydney International tomorrow at 1030 hours, boss," Tony announced as he came back into the room. "Singapore Airlines and their A380."

"I am sure that you're pleased about this, Tony," Ziva said with a smile.

"Why don't you enjoy the afternoon and night off," Jenny suggested. "You've been working for four days straight."

"Yes!" Tony cheered. "I want to visit the zoo."

"Taronga Zoo?" Ethan asked.

"I want to see the platypuses," Tony told him. "Or is it platypi? Platypuses? Platypi?"

"Platypuses," Ethan clarified.

"No, I'm pretty sure that it's platypi," Baker put in.

"Enough," Gibbs roared over the top of them. "This offer is not coming up twice. Get outta here. I want you in the lobby of our hotel at 0700 tomorrow morning."

"Gotcha, boss," Tony called out cheerily, and he left the room with Ziva, Brennan and Booth. The Australians, Ethan and Baker, followed behind them, having been assigned the duty of escorting them around the city.

"You really think that was wise, Jen?" Gibbs asked as he slumped back in the chair that he'd previously occupied.

Jenny hadn't moved from her seat. "They've been working for more than three days straight. It's not exactly legal, Jethro." She looked up from her computer and met the glare on his face. "There's not much we can do until we get to the scene in Singapore tomorrow."

"Hawking?"

"You're welcome to have another go at him," Samantha told him. "After all, we need the name for John Doe in Singapore."

"He won't give it," Gibbs maintained. "Let him stew for a little longer and get your guys from ASIO to have another go at him tomorrow afternoon."

"Of course," Samantha replied sardonically. "I love taking orders from chauvinist American cops from the other side of the world."

"Thank you, Detective Harris," Jenny commended, knowing that the Australian would do it anyway. She shot Gibbs a dark look.

He shrugged back at her.

"So who blew up Hawking's apartment?" Samantha asked, hoping for some conclusive and plausible suggestions.

"There will have to be an active faction of the Knights working here in Sydney," Jenny proposed. "They set up the money and the meet, and destroyed any evidence that would be left in Hawking's apartment."

"Any ideas how to find this active faction?"

"None whatsoever," Jenny replied heartily.

"In that case, I'm gonna put three guards on Hawking all the time," Samantha announced, and left the room to do so.

Gibbs didn't watch her leave the room—he was too busy focusing on Jenny at work. His 'spidey senses' were going off, and he knew that something was up with her. "What is it, Jen? Spill."

Jenny looked up from her laptop immediately and gave him a strange glare. "A decision to make."

"Okay..."

Jenny sighed as the truth came spilling, quite unintentionally, from her mouth. "My director side is telling me that we need notify Homeland Security, the FBI, the CIA, Interpol, Hell, everyone, of a potential grand-scale terrorist attack. My agent side is telling me that if we do that, there's a very good chance that a number of the people we alert are involved in it. We'll never know what hit us."

"This is all based on Tony's testimony," Gibbs reminded her.

"Are you saying you don't trust him?"

"No, I do. But I'm saying that he may not know what's going to happen," Gibbs explained. "How do we know for sure?"

"Of course, Jethro. This whole thing's a coincidence." She glared at him, her expression matching her tone. "Four bodies so far! These guys aren't sloppy. They've gone for centuries without detection. And now? It's typical behaviour of terrorist sleeper cells right before an attack, you know that. This is coming. And it's coming soon."

---

Ziva was amazed at how much a man in his mid-thirties could enjoy a trip to the zoo. She had to admit, it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience, even though there was a heavy feeling weighing on her heart, one that she suspected had nothing to do with the case. She was still thinking about what Tony had told her the night before.

"_I always want to kiss you."_

She wondered if he remembered saying it. Maybe she should have let him kiss her. Maybe she should have given into the demands of her heart. But the logical side that had been nurtured during her upbringing and training won out yet again, and she shied away from her feelings, burying them deep in the icebox that had only really warmed up since she joined NCIS.

"Hey, Ziva," Tony called out to her, slashing through her thoughts. She looked up at him unexpectedly. "Let's get a photo holding the koala bear."

"Koala," Baker corrected irately. "It's not a bear."

Ziva sighed and joined him in the photo. She felt Tony place an arm around her waist while the zoo keeper put the animal on her chest. Tony, somewhat protectively, put his other arm on Ziva's to hold up the koala.

"Most of the one hundred and forty species of Australian marsupials are endemic only to his continent," Brennan announced to nobody in particular as Tony and Ziva their photo.

"Yeah, I learnt that at school," Ethan commented.

"The koala non-bear, the platypuses slash platypi..." Booth began, waiting for someone to finish off his list.

"Platypuses aren't marsupials," Brennan told him. "They're monotremes."

The look on Booth's confused face, which practically screamed 'what the Hell is that' went unanswered as Tony and Ziva came back from their photo.

"So I've got tickets for us for tonight," Ethan announced.

"Cargo Bar again?" Tony asked.

"There's a party there tonight," Ethan replied, and received a slap on the arm from Baker for his trouble.

"Not the Home and Away 21st Birthday Party?!" she asked incredulously. "How did you get tickets?!"

"I know a guy," Ethan smirked. "And I told him that I was bringing American guests, including the best-selling crime novelist, Dr Temperance Brennan." He turned to her and made excessive hand gestures. "So you're coming, else none of can get in."

"Party with Sydney's A-list?" Tony asked as he walked ahead of the group with Ethan.

"Sort of," Ethan replied and then nudged Tony's ribs. "There'll be lots of hot girls just waiting to meet a foreign accent."

"Ah, there's only one foreign accent I'm interested in," Tony muttered.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** You know how much I wanted tickets to the Home and Away 21st B'day?! 2DayFM was giving them away. Now I haven't seen the soap since the earlier part of this decade and I doubt it could've changed very much but I still really wanted to go. Alas, I'm sick anyway. I'm updating this one tonight and I actually had to split one chapter into two, else the other would've been way over three or four thousand words. Next chapter... some light Tiva, some light BB and some seriously heavy Jibbs. I figured I'd start with the romantic portion of this fic and get the first couple introduced into the thick of it. Stay tuned.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

I know that I haven't updated this story in over a year, but I really want to finish it and it's one of my favourites. Hopefully, I can get it done and judging by all the reviews I've been getting, you hope so too. So here is the 11th chapter. I hope my writing style hasn't changed too much since my last update. Thanks for sticking with me.

Please review.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

It seemed that the A-List celebrity party was one they'd never attend. Unable to reach Gibbs or the director, McGee scrambled his rushed and garbled message to the next agent in waiting—Tony.

"What is it, McParty-Prober?"

The Italian-American agent was, clearly, not amused by this.

"The parcel, Tony."

For a moment, he was lost. "Parcel?"

"Yes, the one that was delivered to you," the younger agent explained in an exasperated and unusually high-pitched voice. "The one that you wanted me to retrieve."

"And did you?"

"No, it's missing."

Colour drained from his face faster than a 100m sprinter of the blocks. The others, seeing this, immediately rushed over.

"Missing?"

It took Tony forever to get those two syllables out.

"We had a major security breach at NCIS headquarters," McGee said.

"What is it?" Ziva requested of her partner almost immediately. Brennan, Booth and their Australian counterparts waited patiently for his response.

"Explain!" Tony's demand shocked them to the core.

At least it struck fear into the heart of the young NCIS agent on the other line. He complied with the command at once. "A man was disguised as pizza delivery boy. He told security he had a pepperoni deluxe for you and they didn't ask questions because you always do it."

"And they watched him sift through my desk? Why didn't anybody else see?"

"It was late," McGee continued, "and usually we're the only ones there that late. Security was lazy. They accompanied him to the bullpen and then left. I have a sneaky suspicion that he threw a free pizza or two their way. Nobody was in the bullpen but we have him on tape taking the parcel."

Fear was striking at his very heart. Deep down Tony knew that D-Day was creeping up fast. "An ID, McGee?"

"We don't have one. Baseball cap. Bomber jacket. He stayed in the shadows. You never see his face."

"Tony!" Ziva shouted in his face. "What. Is. Going. On?"

He ignored her. "Why aren't you telling this to Gibbs?"

"I can't get through to him," McGee answered.

That didn't sound their boss, Tony thought. Rule number three—never be unreachable. So what was going on for him to break his own rules.

"The director?"

McGee was shaking his head, but when he remembered that Tony couldn't see him and was probably waiting for a verbal answer, he replied, "No."

Tony was curiously quiet for moment before answering McGee. "I'll call you back." And he hung up.

Ziva looked positively ready to explode. "Now will you please just tell us?"

"The package is gone."

"The package?"

As it turned out, everybody was getting confused.

"The one that Tyler Heinrich sent to me a few days ago," Tony explained quickly. "Somebody broke into NCIS and stole it."

"Why did you leave it in your des-" Booth began, before Ziva angrily cut him off.

"This is neither the time nor the place to lay blame. What we must do now is find out who took it, why and what was in it?"

"Can you answer any of those, Tony?" Brennan asked.

"The who? Not exactly, but I don't think it matters. Obviously it was something of great value to the Order and it could be anywhere by now. I don't think we'll see it again."

"What about what was in it?" Ziva requested expectantly.

Tony was visibly uncomfortable, but the truth was owed to his colleagues nonetheless. The cat was out of the bag now and he needed a shoulder or two to lean on if he didn't want to get scratched. "A book, I think."

"A book?" Detective Ethan Galindez drawled. "What kind of book?"

"When Tyler and I were at school, we were already being groomed for the roles we would expect to assume as Knights. And Tyler's was especially important. He was good at keeping records. Tidy. Organised. That sort of thing. He was also incredibly good at keeping secrets. As logic would have it, he would become The Keeper."

"The Keeper?" Booth asked. "He kept what exactly?"

"The book," Tony answered vaguely. "Something of incredible importance to the Order. It was written by Adam Weishaupt himself, in Bavaria in the late eighteenth century, and added to over the years."

"What's in it?" Ziva pondered aloud.

Tony drew in a breath. "All of the secrets of the Order. Everything they've learnt. Every name of every member. Few people are privy to its details and I was never one of them."

"It makes sense," Brennan began over the top of hushed, shocked whispers. "In all academies, skill and specialisation is recognised in youngsters early and their talent is honed to create a participant with a certain skills set."

"What was yours?" Booth asked Tony.

"Covert operations," he answered emotionlessly. "They wanted to slip me into finance, like my father."

"We should tell Gibbs," Ziva suggested.

"Tried," Tony replied, "and he didn't pick. Neither did the director."

"They were sorting out what to do with Lieutenant Commander Hawking," Baker put in. "I'll call Detective Harris and see if she can locate them."

But there would be little that Samantha Harris could say or dictate to help them with their manhunt. The NCIS director had left some time ago with her subordinate agent and had not discussed their evening plans with her. They would not, in fact, discuss such plans with anybody.

A quiet dinner in a Star City restaurant was followed by a nightcap in _her_ room. Both knew the likely outcome, but each had expressed little feeling on the subject. With a blasé 'come-what-may' attitude, their tender touches to the hotel room were uninterrupted and oblivious to the world. Phones were on but not nearby. They would check them soon enough.

There was almost a rush against the clock aura in the room. If the world they knew was really about to come to a dramatic end and they were really powerless to stop it, then they would take advantage of the time given to them.

"All this bickering between us is senseless, Jethro," his fair maiden had said. "I want to know what you really think."

"Are you sure, Jen?"

It was a game of No-Limit Hold 'Em Poker and neither could bluff their way through it. Their poker faces were ineffective and untrained. They couldn't hide from each other and they could no longer lie to one another.

Jenny stepped forward bravely as soon as the hotel door had shut. Her fingers were gliding softly along the length of his arms. Her hot breath was stinging the bare skin between his collar. His muscles tightened and his control stiffened. He would keep it if he could, but a part of him knew he had surrendered to a deeper will the moment he had offered to accompany Jenny to her hotel.

"Tell me how you feel."

"In words?"

"I know you're never any good with those," Jenny admonished.

"Mm," he agreed as her lips pressed against his neck. The hairs on the back of it stood on end. He was tense, but it was slowly being ebbed away with her soft kisses.

"I think there's something missing from our relationship," Gibbs admitted. "Something that we'll never achieve."

She knew what he was thinking. "Trust."

"Mm," he said again. Her lips were making it impossible for him to think clearly. "Perhaps this was not meant to work."

Jenny took a small step back. "You can't get passed the way we met. This was never going to work."

He followed her like a hunting dog and his prey. She wasn't going to escape easily. "I said perhaps. I don't see why it can't."

"Mm." It was her turn to answer in monotonous syllables.

He closed the difference between them and dragged his lips from the side of her mouth to his lips. She responded in kind. Barriers that they had spent years building were being broken down in a matter of minutes. As his hands wrapped around her body and the animal inside him claimed the prey for his own taking, she wholly submitted to his rampant bodily desires.

A dormant excitement rose to the surface as she felt the smooth lumps and sharp bumps of his figure rub against hers. She had never been the same with another man and she could never feel the same way about another man since him. He had marked her, cursed her really, with a fiery need ever since they converged and, almost as quickly, diverged.

And Jenny… she had imprisoned him almost against his will. A Calypso of sorts, and after a fashion, he would be held hostage by the constant reminder of her rampant desire, and his equally unquenched thirst. Nobody else could do it for him. Nobody else could extinguish the fire. They were reliant on each other's need for love, and completely dependent on each other for that need. It was a vicious unending circle and tonight, they would yield.

By this point, their clothing had been shed and she was captive in his arms once more. The bed, he decided, would be their final resting place, but not before it became the site for their most recent indiscretion and desired conquest. Her tender nails were digging into the back of his calves with enough might to bruise as her arms enveloped his marked neck.

His lips were sinking into the crater above her shoulder, drawing derisive moans from her gaping mouth. They were just a metre from the patterned quilt now and he was ready to engulf her body with his own. There was just one issue. They had heard the annoying ringtones once before and ignored them at first, too involved with each other. But it seemed that the little pieces of technology had sensed the surreal danger and grown more panicky by the second. Their insistent buzzing had almost killed the mood and it took the NCIS director to decide that the world's needs would have to come before their own. She left Gibbs' side and checked her phone.

He was disappointed and so was she, but it soon evaporated when she heard the voice message left by a very strained and overworked Timothy McGee.

"Jethro," she called out. "You need to hear this."

He listened to the message with an emotionless stare. When he hung up the phone, Jenny had still not worked out what he was thinking. "I guess this will have to wait. We have to work to do."


End file.
